Semester of lineage
Ghosts that pace
Noble and
Round
With sibling shrouds.
The food be ready
So the cry
The Cook of the Olympian Table
Cried
Hoarse and bawling.
Accordingly
Went out the fires of the stars
The trembling shades
Of moon
The ghosts that elude
Centuries
And mock
Century after century!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem