The poet has lost sight
in the barren blackout
of today’s modern world.
Technology’s shadow
buries his pen and pad.
The parcel parodies
on his payday parades
fill his decaying mind
with their plastic pleasure.
His mind’s power is out;
the craven has conformed
with the mindless masses!
Who will hold the dim light
as we ascend into
tomorrow’s dark ages?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem