The eye provides a poor, simplistic view,
the outside of a person going by
or living with us, sharing bed and home:
red hair, a pretty face and form
or fat gut, grizzled face, unkempt.
But ah, if we could see the mind,
we'd see each person is not one or two —
not me, that fellow over there, or you.
The mind's a bobbin, rolling to extremes,
converging in the middle, wobbling back,
and what makes the impression is the mean: .
A person is a quilt, an in-between.
Wonderful thought...and the image of the quilt is exactly right. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very complex theme Max, and I can't argue with the 'impression' being made by the 'mean'. Who steers the multi-faceted ship along that 'mean'. What is the steersperson composed of? A bunch of 'mean' related concerns integrated by what - if any one thing in particular? Does a psychopath strive for a 'mean' effect too? When it suits I suppose! ? Tight, succinct poetry that hits the nail on the head as usual! More exercise for that thing I'm supposed to be thinking about! ! Thanks. jim