Now I see like a silence in your life,
Laughing, gismatic—and full of so many other misspelling;
I stab you in the eye while I wait for myself
In the elevator
Until it finally comes down to the silence of angels—
They are there hiding in the spotlights of the foliage of
Your front yard—
And then it seems that the abyss is echoing for business—
What joy in the plotlines that are too busy to be described—
Beautiful, silent places outside of the spotlights—
Where deer have to forage and eat for themselves without
Cartoons—
And even though I know that the planets really do exist—
Just like Phobos and Demos will seem to
Reciprocate around those heavens forever—
I cannot survive for so very long without you being amidst my love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem