Was last night
Afraid of curdled ghosts?
The shrouds roamed freely.
In the air as humming bees
The ghosts and shrouds
Grumbled and lamented.
Dawn opened one eye and
Raised her shoulders in indifference.
Routine and rote Sphinx-like
Looked from a hedge below
The firs and sleepy oaks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem