In the first instant,
the feet asked horse to do him a favor,
then lazed in the obsolete tricar
and kept at it
until it has found a flying horse.
The eye had no immediate refuge
accept the hand
and this gave the focus
until such a time the invisible was seen.
Hard it has so become a trip to the bed,
that one needs a shot
along the heavens searching stairs.
How come people should laze
such that they would rather press buttons
than push pen-
instruct robots rather than stretch arms?
How come people should tip loads
rather than shove shovels?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Flying horse! ! ! ! Time to think; Hose, lose, nose, close! Able to push the pen. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.