Mists of delusion
blowing away, leave the peaks
of reality.
Telling truth we lie
lying, tell the truth
a bit of both in either.
This cloud- roof of earth
or floor of heaven?
Everything is point of view.
Old, the heart is shot
and covered with many a spot
but the mind burns on brightly.
Poetry: thing once
of insight, observation-
now politics, performance.
Awesome the way
frank self-expression
commonly ends in cliche.
Town to farm: Welcome!
kindly leave your stuff behind
when you visit me.
Many lovely things
are born on the farm
Prurience not one of them.
Town is town, farm, farm.
Everything in between
is the suburbs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
telling truth, good one. I invite you to read my poems and comment.