Farewell to the lesser people,
They fist their hands instead,
Ready to punch the heart,
Eager to fight the learned,
Wishing the redness of their blood
Was brighter and sweeter.
Their beautiful and comforting smiles are less,
Since it hides the inner ability to think,
Inside it is awkward and right,
Loving and polite,
Instead the freedom is theirs,
But mine for the moment.
Then I see lesser men do smaller tricks,
Like an animal with fur, and not just skin,
I see further and I want more to awake in the mind,
Just like the elephant in its size,
Like a buzz and a swift flight
Into the midwinter when it is safe from the sun.
Much is littler than me when I think.
My thinking has compelled me to enjoy
But no lesser man is me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thinking makes you a man…I liked the thought of your poem, the animal imagery is impressive…