Tell The Spectators

I was breezed like a ball by a striker
And caught by the giant net on the goal axis
Danced in the bearing of bisector of the poles
With the keeper standing aloof at the perilous angle
With her eyes on the net, when I was dancing
In a conduct of a spiral degree on the elevation in a mass of wave
I sat on the parallel line in the bottom of the net alone
Geometrically, sleeping in the basket of voices
That traveled like electron.

In the acute of the striker; I moved in a protractive manner
To the centre line, there, I started movement
To everywhere no one can tell
I moved in my direction but not her direction
She rubbed me lightly on the surface to keep me in shape,
When I sagged her cloth with my robust skin,
With a touch of water
Confusedly; I ran out of the field to a safety hands
Which blew the final whistle.