BROKEN lines, with a crazy smile,
eyes pointed up, towards the
burning sun.IS this it, you yell
at GOD, or just another bad trip.
BROKEN lines with some happy dust,
a woman sits by herself, with her
pipe, and drugs, is this it, she
yells at GOD, or just another bad
trip.
BROKEN lines mend as one, they
wash there bodies in the water
of GOD, is this it, they both yell,
yes says the king, now go back
home.
BROKEN lines
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I would like to translate this poem
Been a long time since I've read you David! And I wasn't dissappointed in this grinding little ditty. I love the repetition of 'IS this it? ' It really gives substance to the question of life as we blow it. I like it. Smiling at you Tai