you who have not learned to fly
but cannot fall as you are fire treading its
steps upon a narrow wall
towards the ceiling sky,
you whose wings of dawn are broken
by the waking of the light
you shall teach me how to live again
how to furnish these ends with tendrils
at the tips of death
at the falling of the last leaf
upon our common grounds we shall speak
what we already know....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem