She would say
that I am dull,
unreliable,
and bring slow exhaustion
to the skin of the earth.
And she would say
that rhythyms of corruption
define my flesh.
Only you, know
what swims inside of me.
Only you, intellectual one,
perceive greatness deep within.
They are still blinded by false visions.
Only He, gazes upon the ticks in my brain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stunningly unfunny and instead tis profound and lovely. So much for my quest for light humor. -chuck