there is this feeling
that i am a kind man
for daily
i dig my own grave
with
poetry as
my shovel and when
it is deep enough
(in fathom thoughts)
i without so much
trouble simply stop
there
lay myself like a
bundle of sticks
or a bouquet of roses
(if you want it
beautifully put)
and i let gravity
do the trick
with soft soil falling
upon me
and then
bury me absolutely like
a logical
category.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem