world, i am sorry
you are broken, bleeding, twisted
wreckage of an idyll
that once wanted life.
beauty is smeared on lips
like the colourful pigeon
carcass, headless, i met with
in my wanderings today.
you cannot excuse my running away
perhaps, mayhaps, maybe
but horse in circles goes
penned in by naughty words:
i want to be a friend to you
and this, i fear, for such a deer
is simply not enough.
there are too many people
plucking at my heart-strings,
too many tearing out my mane
for scratching fiddle strings.
i await a package bright
and tied in coloured strings
and to which a shall reply
with many whinnyings.
will you forgive that we may
not forget?
i am
an ogre
slow
and pensive
i seek
control
of
things
i cannot
and
dully
trudge
along
bright eyes!
happy face and
warm hands.
i rested and you held
both me and burden well.
why? i cannot kiss you
but with words.
will you cut off my mind's tongue
and punch its lips puce?
aye, wretch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem