He walks with his legs
Maybe unlike someone else
At knee jerk falter
But stub by accident
Still he will rise
He talks with his mouth
In his tongue
Fall sometimes
Hardly rising
He writes with a silent pen
He reads with his starry eyes
And he pronounces with his silent lips
The muse speaks to
The world whole
In languages legion
To the heavens, to the sky
And to the seas
And to all fauna and flora
That what he pens any day
Comes alive more than himself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem