Aimlessly walking through
the quiet town, an echo
painlessly affirms belonging.
Night falls;
the day disintegrates -
all reference fails.
I cannot wrap this world
in meaning. Slowly it burns
out the old images, the worn
words, the soiled. This is
the turning point; the nights
calm trodden underfoot.
Hold out your hands;
capture a fragment
of the neon-splintered
sky. A window brightly
shouts its wares.
Stares
into darkness
and reveals
its own banality.
(1978)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem