the simple turn of the acorn,
holds the secrets of infinity;
a thousand Romes burnt and fell,
in each leaf exploding with ecstasy.
the Holy One came in the form
of a stray cat,
waiting to be fed.
while somewhere small children,
walk with angels in search of rice.
and carpenters hammer nails
as pumpkins wait to be carved.
tired old women wash dishes,
while childrens pictures shout.
and stars themselves are only acorns....
need i say more?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem