The kitchen is solace
A place where memories and dreams confer
One tells of a lost place
And one tells of an Eldorado to refer
The best time is late at night
Where alone the world seems to team
Play a good game, fight a good fight
And end up with a smoothie of a memory into a dream
A place where guys and dolls lose that
And become one ordinary organic element
That defines them more human than combatant
Strange how it masters reason with sense of sentiment.
Because food is plenty, hidden in every corner
But love-food-thought tips the scale
Man, woman, child and every born of
Lose their guard memory's mail and hope's hail
Upon going back to the kitchen
An email from the past comes
A promise of a heart, mind and soul food den
A small wonderful place that feeds all and then some.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem