Some early gnostic paraded his knowledge
weren't they a bunch of unbearable, know it all's
with fraternities and with rationale
they'd have harden-up-insides icy, soon as blossomed.
Van Gogh saw the blossoming springs; the Almond
as-a-special tree to him, it was part of the chancel
that represented a pearl of hope amidst a backdrop of darkness
But here are some know-it-all atheists seen laughing at him
his eyes and veins were swollen full to their bursting brim.
God doesn't-exist forget your brushes, your oils, your gospels
those apostles, don't sing that nonsense hymn,
don't paint those blossoms;
you're all just deferring your sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem