My lady looks at the end
of a novel or mystery
her expectation fuse
too short, too volatile
yet she is of outward calm
I don't fuly comprehend
where such a social contract leads
The back of the book
the moral of the story
the fantasy of allegory
all fofieted by impatient leaf turning
such disbedience of norm
the first great sin got us kicked out
of the Garden of Eden,
she knows better, indeed she does
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem