he had been watching
this over and over again,
and this familiarity
gives birth to boredom.
the scenes flash by
lovers engaged in passion.
tilted and lilted and
rotated and hanged.
the mundane finally turns
into the divine
from the depths of hell
to the surface where the
gate of heaven opens.
the two are interrelated,
like the ladle to the ell.
like the Iceland whale to
the Brazilian gecko.
as one does not feel the
cold without the warmth once.
as one never felt so poor
after the fatal fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem