Don't hate
the moment
not to be
pinged away!
come back
slobbering,
I empty
you full
cannot fill,
change
the political
climate,
of pound signs
startled
within English
banks,
life suspends us,
or spends souls,
Elizabeth's
golden seams,
this is no meaning,
not for me...
racetracks of people
in stupid hats,
and who really wears it,
what kind of act?
mask of a soul
partly torn...
something in us -
yet to be seen,
a sliver of dream,
good contemplation...
the best we still owe,
to the ransacked....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem