I'm out of practice
talking,
other than thinking out loud
and that's
:
:
Crazy-
Still,
all the crazies
think they're
geniuses, they're
minds so
:
:
Deep-
Well,
Not all, baby.
I'm water in a glass,
cold as iced sun,
still as the rocks
we once walked upon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very fine. Sometimes somebody manages to tell that natural set reflects intimate life. It's true.