most people don't read poetry
and when and if they do
reflect upon, what pertains to them
glance and pick at its fruits
of another mind so bold and ripe
revealing the serious and the tripe
not all words touch the right chord
replay pictures of the mind
the moods of both reader and writer
in one point of time must be align
eclipse all other thoughts
so that reflected, dawn on another
it is a marriage a spoken contract
made in time
culture of the mime
read and reread, said and re said
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem