I can't answer every question sweet-child
my mind is not a camera - it is
a wide river running forever wild
it takes a panoramic view - it is
a-ladle in the hot-soup-bowl of life
I am but bread and water the gruel.
That passes from hand to mouth still rife.
With all the waters that, fountain jewel.
Spring up or falls-down on you, the moist dew
that trembles pearly now have more answers.
Then all the scientists and birds-singing—view.
Ah, crystal thoughts hang on you with lanterns-
lit and yet child, you think my heart is glib,
while believing woman; was made a slave
to carry and fetch for you—of one rib,
was not the world made, my dear, little, knave?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem