I don't expect much - just play the game with
me, when something is absurd or like a pretty
fairy, don't tell me the facts - reality is clear &
I need no information on it - if a sharp sewing
needle went right through my finger - as it did
this morning, I say like Sleeping Beauty I'll be
out for a hundred years; don't tell me it wasn't
a spinning wheel, saying three drops of blood
lead to an injury-at-work-compensation claim
form, don't lecture me on what claims entail -
Don't belabour the point; can't you allow irony,
sarcasm and absurdity a place, will you even
correct Alexander Pope's Rape of the Lock &
Molière's Le Malade Imaginaire & what about
Ilse Aichinger & Kafka's Das Schloss, not to
mention Terry Pratchett; now you've got me
doing it too, belabouring a point also - what
about the joy of symbolism - everything I see
can be a symbol of a beautiful thing it evokes
in my mind, in make-believe the needle was
from a spinning wheel, capice? Can't you let
your guard down and play along? When I say
I'm donning a Peruvian skirt or now I'll be the
fairy Dewdrop, it's MAKE-BELIEVE, no lesson
on reality needed, no derogatory remarks will
stop me from playing as if, there's such scope
for the imagination in the great bureaucracies
of modern civilisation & by the way, I'm a sky
elf and Irish goblin combined today due to my
blue blouse and green sleeveless top, I won't
be the same thing continuously, when wearing
black T-shirt - I'm a pirate - don't you ever sing
and jump up and down with joy, feel your heart
blossom into a perfect love which encircles the
universe, why protest when a dreamy twist will
colour the fabric of reality as if trying to stop all
lovely dreams from taking off by growing wings
and starting a merry-go-round of fun to turn for
all eternity? "The Windmills Of My Mind" -Frida
Boccara doesn't literally have mindmills in her
Head & saying the Cathedral of MY MIND with
its sacred silence, it's is a figure of speech - a
metaphor, no tautology required, just enjoy an
image in the bioscope of your mind; oops, this
is another metaphor, I must stop before really
great hyperboles lead to nervous ticks in some
of my esteemed colleagues…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem