Pulse-quick avenues, laneways
And littler beaten ways
Of child's warm flesh, if not chilled
Homing's fright-chased. Stiff-willed!
Who now gain the advantage
A slicker-looking passage
Makes of each; each spectre through.
Out-facing each flake's view!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem