I see a man who forces my knowing head
To scrutinize his face, and dozens of fields
Of learning gaze back at me for the bed
Is low on the ground and I need shields.
These thoughts run towards me and we fly
Forming images in my inner mind
Like a brainy occupation which we amplify
Am I ever imagining or dreaming blind.
I see men or women in the formation ahead
Opening a passageway ghostly and pained;
Mostly a suffered man is alien to me, only to behead
As he claims manhood and not womanhood attained.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem