So long, reclining
Had brought majesties to birth
That cloud-shaper, Wind.
So long, stick insect -
Which brown length of his likeness
As upon it 'twere pinned
His own nave's window
Dragonfly's mid-air freeze
Effected right there!
Its stained of saints' visions
With the flooding light, behind;
In a moteless air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem