I look good
together
Got these penny wings
I could actually fly with
It all becomes so clear
Sound goes down
Sanity returns in an instant
The night is bigger…
I'd rather stay near the ground
I'm not a practicing angel
* *
I see more
than you
A piece of hair to you
is a snake to me,
and snakes are mean worms
to a giant, like a tree
Think how much less
a giraffe can see
with her face among the leaves
Or an airplane, a very high,
serious airplane
A jet is out of the question
And a rocket
is like a flea…
I'd rather push a pebble around
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem