They dance upon the surface
as time ripples below their feet
Until these ripples meet the shore,
creating waves to stir the pool
Gentle puppeteers float overhead,
moving the plane with tattered strings
The winds call them along
Alone and lost in thought, they drift away
A captivating light expels pureness
upon this cumbersome crystal fleet
Beams of light replace strings of rancor
as elegant waves dissipate the cesspool
The seeds of their labor begin to embed
suspending the plane and its quislings
Puppets of reprise prolong
the silence of the wake in clever byplay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem