Out of this mind in my trance
Three men from earth are in bond.
The one thrown to all as mad
The other from all heart a lover
The third speaks of them in this piece
And in many imaginations
Called a poet.
My fellow the first escapes
From his mind by mystical causes
Ruminating with the spirits
That employ his shame to their praise
He cuts himself at their will
Eats from their kitchen in the bin
His head of mysteries filled
His understanding profits nothing
To all mortals who will die
He carries with him legions
Hidden within for all drama.
This fellow man lover
To all foolish things a slave
Controls by earth various fantasies
In his short dreams of passing times
For him the earth is a circle
And must sleep around the walls
To his wake
Driven by sober shows in words
From oath to oath
All the lovers of this earth
Have to foolish times surrendered.
And for him that is last
Shuttling around the secrets of gods
With frenzied eyes rolling
In captivity of numberless imagination
Gathering stones and carving the earth.
From the passage into all mysteries
Transform shapelessness and naming objects
Of thousand years nothing.
Unlike a lunatic speaks to men
And like lovers to one object
He is a fool.
His pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem