In a old proverb
The Spaniards say,
That of poet, madman and musician
We all have a bit in our d n a.
Maybe that was long ago,
It seems that today
We are like made of straw,
Devoid of illusions,
Jumping to wrong conclusions
Making fun of love's illusion,
And on top it all,
We've got Nothing to say!
The oneness
Of disillusionment,
And hate,
Is sadly
So apparent, today!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem