human beings race around
like mad rats praising a God
that they barely know,
and wouldnt recognize
if they met Him on the street...
hoping for a quick fix,
a lucky talisman, a mystic anchor
against storms of our own design.
a nod of the head to eternity,
as life pours from a boot
onto bloody streets...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem