Multitasked, five fingers touching different plugs,
Two hands holding three coffee cups, a mind that reads a book
And looks at the changing hues of the skies, two feet sailing in two separate sailing boats,
A heart that loves and hates a hand that wants to clap alone not in
Good rapport with the other, a left ear that closes and a right
Ear that opens,
A mouth that eats and wants to speak when it is still full,
A disunity of my parts and confusion of my beliefs,
A rebellion of my cells, unrest of my nerves,
And so how can I ever finish this one?
When all that could have been done is that
we all listen
when speaking should only be one at a time
when things should have been done one at a time
when living should have been only a moment in time
when climbing should only be one stair at a time
this moment, this time, this you and I, not convoluted not intercalated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem