You find beauty in what life brings
Those nuggets, scraps, and other things
Walnuts rest on the floor
Un-devoured, saved once more
Seeds, nuts, and onions evoke the nugatory
Perhaps they belong to all that's allegory
Little objects lain upon the table to paint on canvas
Together with a few broken branches
We go on across the world in detours
To observe hidden things that to others are obscure
Most forget that the objects are miniature
And that they hold secrets that details procure
I was an Irishman who in 1849 crossed the sea
There were no more potatoes to sustain me
Thus I escaped to America to be free
May there be a society in which the poor
Gain power by taking the floor
With words of honesty and so much more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An immensely inspiring piece...woven with a dexterous affinity for the juicier phrase. Kudos!