OK, be cynical – say,
why, it’s only a piece of dead wood
that found itself trapped when
the earth’s crust heaved a sigh…
be cynical - say,
it didn’t ask for you to
dig it up - buried there
recovering from the shock…
be cynical - say,
anyway, it looked like a pebble then
until a man so cleverly polished it..
be cynical – say,
it’s nothing of itself – all it does
is to reflect the light that’s always all around..
be cynical – say,
we’d only value it as a piece of glass,
if smart guys didn’t fix it for them to seem rare,
and silly girls say, look, it proves he loves me…
now just look at this diamond..
what use is your mind
when your eye and your heart
get on so well without it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Unusual piece Michael, and a very interesting read. A gem of a poem, with plenty of polish! Love and hugs Ernestine XXX