Sitting on the green carpet below the sky so wide
I'm hearing things i pretend i understand
Around speakers that are self determined
I'm in the corner of this circle of melodies
To make it clearer is hard to do
They're too healthy, their bones are hard to move
Acceptance of hesitation, a proud hobby to make
When there's an absolute motive, its the alternative they take
Do i need to be blue to be nice
Do i need to learn how to be incorrect
Does it have to be me who does the juggling
Or should we let the constants decide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem