Are not
We skeletons?
At the moment
Clothed in flesh
We hear
The bellman in the streets
We hear the paces
From our beds and
Warm rooms:
We glide
Into the pressure-oven
Of Time and clear waters
We will move slow
That Age will not
Stifle us that early
Gain more time:
Though
I am underneath and
At heart
A skeleton
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem