Across their streamy inspections
That epitomize a scene
Scatched into glass
On our members, the notion of
Dim gods must pass;
On our soft boomed, and sky-blended
Scurry, indecipherable.
On the wind-adept
And light-delirious antics
Of ones, dry-leapt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem