So there are people like Salvador Dali, eulogized by many,
But apparently he took substances to help him think,
And there are actually people who say all sorts of things,
All by themselves, without anything else….
Those are the real artists, those are the thinkers…
Those are the dreamers, those are the stinkers…
Oh dear, got carried away in naming them, but hey! That’s what they’re called today.
So let the stink arise, right up to the skies,
And then, at last, everyone will say, “Ah, we’re natural again”.
Let the madmen out – listen to what they say
They could really say… something…
But who knows what it is… Madmen somehow are just so good
No one understands what they say
(That’s why the people call them “Mad”,
But Hey! The more good something is, the less people understand it
But if you want a real good joke… call the mad men out!
Or the mad women…
Okay, the mad boy and the mad girl
Okay, everyone and anyone mad in any way..
Looking for madness….
(Remember to let them do what they want,
Only they know the path to true madness
And they’ll leave gems on the path
That … (Has it bin done before…? Yet to see the madmen …
The truly mad ones, Not those who take processed substances, to think,
Oh well, they have their day too..
Maybe there is something to what they say…
Oh hey! There is something to what everyone says…
…. What did you say…?)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem