Sometimes you just want to punch the air
What victory is to be garnered there
Mining the hollow of mindlessness?
Shaking the stump of a hewed-down tree
Soon fall apples into your laps free
Than the whipped-thin emptiness
If it be a punch-bag which is with air filled
There's likelihood you'll be fulfilled
In your striking image and likeness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What are we mining out of our lives? "the hollow of mindlessness"? Great write! Top score