I,
(This piece of shit; worthless, drunk)
Think of nothing but shape of hive.
“What is a hive? ”
You ask and I, the mud in rain, collapse and fall.
She was alone, I heard; in car.
I could see her in mind’s mirror
With tens of bees roaming around
Rolled up windows, doors locked, terror,
I think and thought of bees and hive
In same mirror, I could see her,
Wetting her pants, being scared,
Turning the car to right and left,
Heading for home; best, the cottage
They wheezed and wheezed.
Like a Martian, she was in mask.
It seems funny; comedy films.
A big woman, small the bees
In her wet pants, scared as shit
Being wooly with no honey,
(The food we share with forest bears.)
I laughed! Upset I was, of selfish theft.
To rob their food we set the box, domesticize.
Honest are bears and have the guts.
They reach with hands, we say, “Unwise”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Human desires an not be satisfied. They drive people nuts and, suffer and suffer till one dies. Only solution is to tame one's own desires in a spiritual way.