In the high speeding of a poet -
you hear angelic speech.
And in one moment all the poems -
no time to read.
It sounds - like lightning from the thoughtful,
all through your brain -
two hemispheres full of voices
fused like a nail.
you have no time: the speed of that light -
will kill you now,
will kill your sin, will born a poet
bilingual.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Walt Whitman wrote, I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC. But that was the 19th century. You've increased the speed and power of the poet for the 21st century. This is a poet who making the most out of his time on earth, experiencing everything fast, so he has time left over to write it down. And then he speed away to gather more from life. I know this poet by reputation - his name is Mayakovky, a Cloud in Trousers, a Healthy Giant, A Poet whose Poems have no wrinkles!