The modern rebellious Hermit
Who carries a Tommygun
For his self defence
And a Laptop full of Sutras,
He searches Tom, Dick and Harry.
An old Cemetery in a Metropolis,
He's almost tired and he sits on a tomb
Takes a can of black beer from his old haversack and he sips.
Gradually he realizes all the enimies & friends were fast asleep
Except him, strenuous struggle in the messy life
With microparasites!
*I do not think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains.
-Anne Frank
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem