Little lights that stutter and flicker
Found ill formed in the greenish cinder blocks
Of amusement homes:
In the little towns that keep their own paces—
Cattle rustling in the night
And the castles that do not have to move—
But move ever so softly, mollusks in
Their shells carried across the big cities that
Are always on the move.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem