The duality of two realms encountered by magical means,
where the universe is welcomed.
Both of them
Challenging together,
Witnessing together,
Controlled by the same actors switching tongues.
Dreamed, wrecked, staged
Your realm,
Your face
Your soul!
“We are tripping, ”
They’ll say as they surround their ghastly appearances,
Attached to the same existence
Being the visitors (saluting lands)
Being the guest (playing the strings)
Consequently, becoming the butler
the victim.
Apologizing for raising the voice
Into a vagueness.
Is it ever the greatest place to enjoy reality?
Does it represent power? (because of its own neutrality)
Like thunder striking the light
Like planes defying their ancestral creators.
Fighting at each other – winds, clouds, stars, snowfall, rainfall.
A mystical illustration to the skeptical
Conducted by spirits,
Flapping in the stairs,
Disrupted by the demons hiding on the corners.
‘The States of Roles, ’ as they are being adorned by fantasies
Magic is spread at the end
To wake up the public and thank them for their assistance
“Good night, good luck… You’ve been a lovely audience”
After you turn your back and your viewers are gone,
You return to your realm,
Where you mirror
Your own nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem