A poet is an artist who disposes
upon an un tau[gh]t canvas wor[l]ds which set
against each other suddenly forget
accepted meanings. Magic superposes
facettes prismatic - music it proposes
which, surfeiting, fresh appetites will whet.
Like Seurat’s coloured points, together met,
the poet pillows words in many poses
in painting interactions, - what he shows is
the all is one, the one is all, and yet
leaves scope for further progress, as a debt
he owes the Past, bequeaths the future, closes
no doors but leaves posterity to find
with open mind the key to light man’s heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem