Stand stalwart against the bull,
Like toreadors, but
In corridors.
Look sharp and sinister
Down the pick.
Use the lance to find solutions.
Where did we go?
Our friends and books,
Our disks spinning on
The hard drive
Finally brings us eye to eye
With the bull.
He, before you,
With fierce maddening eyes,
Reveals our inner eye, and
The I within me.
We store a labyrinth of treasure
To mine in days of leisure.
You will sit silently in rooms,
Walk near stars and
Bleeding bulls,
Or awaken some mornings
To test patterns,
With the eyes in need of rubbing,
Eyes in need of monitoring.
Don't forget to drag the bull out,
Detailed and deaf.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem