Rome.Open city.
Unreal with paling light.
Singular with stone and ochre.
Gods dyed with dust,
the unquiet dead corded
with white marble.
Heaven`s steps so cruel with belief.
My hotel. Forster. Only connect.
Words cool and dry,
the idea of a lost kingdom...
Far from the noise of this,
in shade, under pines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem