Howl Allen Ginsberg with Nebuchadnezzar’s
For this generation’s minds lie bleeding and ravished
in the streets of the libertine-philosophic
Your angel-headed hipsters of darkness marshalling
the hollow-eyed masses to their graves.
Israfel softly sings his damnable odes in the classroom
and o’er the air-waves.
Two hundred million saxes wail false laments
like the butchered-truths of the painter Francis Bacon
But when one prays at the altar of Damien Hirst
(or de Payens) just Who and what has been forsaken?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
I 360 no scopes his 2016 fivehead