Quest
Once somewhere
With owner well-dressed in two-piece
Her skirt to her knees; and her shawl scarlet
On a shelf in showcase with mirrors
Sat a bowl
A bright and unique crystal
It was thick; special
But somehow inside it laid an ant
Beethoven had come there
To palace
He played symphony No.5
Magical music with questions
Ups and downs
Easier falling than, upheaval
He stood with drink in his hand
Like old days' history, long-long past
When he could light cigar
But no more
He was guest and polite
So stood and observed and wondered
'Crystal in showcase of palace and an ant...'
'It is end...I cannot...'
As if ant was talking; image said:
'The world is just a mess.'
'You're small, unable, handicapped.'
He felt saying.
'And maybe out of luck; or maybe simple, dumb
If not a curious researcher...'
'Who's lucky to have died; for his quest.'
He replied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem