the Poet-Seer at last found,
indulged in
and made his children.
From each the gift was children.
That was what he sought, he,
who they laughed at
because he had said
'Poems are my children'
Now he wanted to reply and fire back.
He,
Reproduced just conventionally
though
he would settle matters more intelligently
by cloning:
look - he was a scientist too
the Poet Seer.
The revolutionary,
his hunger for children more
than the parched man for water in the desert
the Poet-Seer abandoned all
for just conventionality
for right of reply
for firing back
for children.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem