A succulent and juicy apple
Dropped into a mad man's bowl
There was absolute
He threw it among the sands
And I picked my gift and blew air
On it and all the sand and the dirt
Left the apple
It was clean edible and nice and cool
Then there was rancour.
What I like everyone likes
And what they hate and I like
They like back
The world's fast heels
Are after my taste
I will never stop to like what they hate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem