Bukowski did not care for Jazz,
that never fails to surprise me.
The classical was his choice,
Brahms in particular,
crunching across his motel floor,
drink in hand, he swayed to Brahms.
For me, it's Elgar's music,
listening, I could almost believe in God.
Seriously, how could the Human brain
ever produce 'Nimrod'? .
it doesn't seem possible somehow,
it's like a snake hissing poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem