in my bathroom window ceiling,
a he pigeon, a she pigeon,
she pigeon head and torso ''pasted''
on ceiling floor, a love pose,
her tailwing up to sky,
he piegon on her head and pecking,
she cooing incessantly
oblivious of hindrances around,
he respond-ccos sporadically,
as the day grew deeper,
their cooing assumed thunderous proportion,
this will beget the right egg,
that will beget the right hearts,
that will beget the right wings
that will feel the ether in right manner
that will inherit the right blue of right sky,
that will fill in all of us right zest and right freedom,
God will navigate in Hïs own 'sky'
with this love extraordinaire
or else God sleeps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem