They say this thing to
The world of
Many lovers who are
Just getting up
Now that in this
Neighborhood is not
Anywhere to believe
In-
The ghosts never find
Their love-
The immature Chinamen
Are still smoking in
Their stalls-
The lightning is waiting
For the goblins that
Dance-
Your father is waiting for
Your mother across
The canal-
And the woman you love
Sleeps withouth any breath
While you get drunk
In the arms of a
Butterfly that has
Forgotten all of the
Ways to love-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem