i am now into
useless things
like this pebble in my head
smooth, reddish, with some
gray veins
a paradox of youth
and senility
i hold it
i close my hands
and hide it from you
you who see nothing
significant about it
it is cold now and
it is keeping me warm
inside my mind
it has become so significant
and as
beautiful as ever
i shall dream about a castle
of pebbles
smooth, reddish, sun like.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem