Vegetables that mean nothing to her, a child to be
a problem of choice, the time which gives opportunities
transformation of beauty, a conceit of age
the journey that she lived, a little flute bearing a horn
to complete perfection, as god believed the ten commandments of love
she would wrap around like a living cabbage, to the roots of deconstruction
a child which waits with patience, tears of blessings
the moron who would considers himself, a disgrace he is a moron
creating the intricate lines of leaves, a job commitment
the splotches of god's grandeur which comes alive
never were our desires, never was there a lamp of love
for time man did not create but follows.
the inches missed a bullet
the creature that has fallen
a greater teacher one of possibilities
an image, the lamp at the round table
the knights and squires who bare the truth
the world eats on a plate or with hands
the world tastes the food all love
the smudge on the bridge
to the lonely window naked
a consideration of a child, the contendness of god
the wonderful rays of the sun, awake, arise
a host of daffodils flying in victory to another day
they even now grow between the weeds, the virtues
fruits that had been eaten, good god
I called it luck, that of which gives a bow
my fair lady, my fair lady
the atmosphere created, untitled, unknown
But time man did not create but follows
We all fall down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem