Upon this stormy route, I tread for aye
Wayfarer on a suicidal walk
A thousand thistles carpeting my way,
And all creation blust’ring to my stalk…
Upon this trail I go, a vagabond,
Barefooted but unflickering I trot
In shining nudity caparisoned
A tow’ring citadel, I waver not…
Upon this track, a bedlamite, I wade…
Supported by my eccentricity
A swarm of rabid dreams, my cavalcade
One motive, Ay! My singularity…
Upon this endless path, no termini
I march forev’r and e’er until I die!
Adelaide
July 22nd 1991
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem