All of the Shakespears are of a kind, as their
Dogs remember the moon like old masters; as all of the snakes
Are green and curling up to the sleeping
Housewives
Whose svelte bosoms the out of worker otters had been cracking
Legumes upon,
As the piano’s metronome kept the time
For the unicorns in gray keys out on the foam;
And traveling through the highways of the fjords where
The nocturnal flowers swam,
It all seemed out and out so beautiful, as the sky made monotonous
Love to the land; and it was calling up to him,
Like a prayer of a hard-up wife clutched around her knees
And shoals by all of her hard-up children:
They were coughing blood and coins to pay the ferryman:
And he came through the canal just as the billy goats were
Crossing over,
All brothers of a kind; and I have to tell you that I hate to tell you
That it was you whom I had on my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem