philosophy always comes
when i drive my car alone and it is at night when ideas come like
visible fishes on a clear pond
i hear fins, and i see them glimmer like ideas
in my head
it is at the exact time when ripples come
and the water is disturbed and
mud becomes excited
you try to figure out what is in the making
this turbulence of mud in water and fish and ripple
creating one distinct world
of ironies and
chaos and it is when mud settles again when the water gets into
a form of film
that you are satisfied about clarity that you still miss
it comes after a muddy eddy
after a ripple and the calm comes back to you like the hand of
a missing loved one
caressing your hair as she arrives and pulls you gently to bed
to sleep and be rested
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem