I probably should
give up reading
poetry
(but, ofcourse I won't):
for everytime I do,
1) : I do not understand the rambling
incohisive gibberish, and cannot
fathom how in the hell the poet became so famous.
or,
2) : I love it so damn much that I
become dispirited, realizing how unworthy and discombobulated
are my own words.
No in-betweens.
Oh well,
time to read some more
poems.
Shall it be
the neurotic gnomes of knowledge
with their venerated volumes of verse,
or
the poor pure poets
with their touching tales so terse?
- I will take door number two,
please. Let us read on...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem