By hitting the brass bowl
The fun of the words gets silent
The vibrations fade, the huge golden glow erupts
This ward that ward-
In all neighborhoods, in all cattle-sheds
The united flunkeys trample
Morning breeze timely -
The obsessed cymbal plays miserable in turbulent times.
By the sudden explosion of the dark square
The canal of pus falls out through the alley of hollow teeth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem