it craves the mountains
below a starlit
tear the sky as if it were a handkerchief
to see what's behind
the tulips bowed their heads
singing the sound of a guillotine
it's the mind the mind
that wants to see
what's inside
what's within
what's behind
a megalotelecopic infantile stupidity
equally insensitive to the result
of its own experiments
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem