Where are the passionless eyes,
Piercing the cradle of night
And smothered in stars?
Will the pale criminal remember them
In a riot of body
Or the languid panther deny them entrance?
Few now recall the black s*men of Caesar
Or the rotting bodies of his dismembered slaves,
Only his words were perfect
And his soldiers lie sleeping in eloquent graves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem