Doing something is
the State of Being
in motion,
Should be,
echoes Gnome
allowing an eternal moment
to expand into a continuum of prayer,
a chorus of obscenities,
choruses Gnome
a symphony of joy,
an orchestra that has crucified its conductor
and can no longer progress beyond
a discordant tuning of instruments,
says Gnome.
Life membership of a team that always wins
in a game without opponents,
if there are no opponents, they can cheat
and fight among themselves
and appoint a referee to martyrise,
says Gnome.
Doing something
loses its sacredness
and spiritual satisfaction,
the moment when you think
to do it in order to get it done,
to travel to arrive,
to go to work to come back home,
to begin to finish,
to work to retire.
Your walk through
the ἀλήθεια of the Elysian fields
then becomes a competitive time trial
to see who gets to the exit
First,
and tumbles
First,
into the teeming
Sangsāra
of Lethe and Forgetfulness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem