Rain dances on the tin roof
a bright garden of sound
like one million watery prayers
to God and Bhudda and Allah and all the patron saints
rain wash away the stains...
I wish I knew how to translate the exclamations and epiphanies
drumming on the ceiling
while the winter fire melts my knee caps
like two bony ice flakes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem