Intellect is feeding passion
thinks it parts and eats its ration
suffering is anti-spring
and indulgence breaks a wing
you are touched by affirmation
you are moved by contemplation
all internal situation
waiting for the bigger feeling
hungry for some self-healing
until it shall reach your skin
and then it will bring you reason
for your fertile seasoning! M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem