Translation of an Unnamed American Poem

Translation of an Unnamed American Poem

after C.B.

In a high slope of the neck, like the belt of a roof,

It’s unforced. Exchanged for more sun-glancing

In the West Ocean. Regular sky, like parties or drinks disguise a simple

Nobody evening without cameras. Take it as the second-movement

Of world. This one silence and a ceiling freely torn off, we’re outside now

Felt sawed in a late afternoon excursion, beat in the song. One only

Confused by the meaty taste of real. Different fluting, a sigh enclosed.

From swarm last procession, get lost. A porch-light to encourage youth. Speak

Rise about overgrown day. It remains in concrete/metal stairwells until

The answer waits. By occasion, this vicinity reception. The opinion of the will.

These scenes start to sweep eyes. Plain is one outskirt of how far story

Can let us make leave. To go left, pass the seating of the street

Of the coffee place. Go down more on being appropriate. Such an amount

The news which lets not so much spill outside in each more certain

Opinion of on the ends. Stopped, around. A position can for the offer

Pause of the fixed glance on sun, or a manner of appearing. All the equal

One but if an owner, curious with the manner, of girls available.

Which passes to memory, quality a scent-note.

The duty of this suncolor purchases space as a bird purchases its rock

Gone being is slowed down, before purging any drawn day. Where we are

In between a gesture of kind enacting yes, yes. Let’s stick with the birds.


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