where does poetry come from?
from my heart? no, not at all times
it comes from you, i learn it from you
when we talk,
when you too, tell me about the lonely life in the village
the slow sailing boat that you were taking,
the silence of the lake and the occasional ripples from the mouth of a fish
poetry is a social thing
it rises from a fountain of humanity
from a river where we take our baths
from the rock where we dry ourselves under the sun
you are never naked, but i would have preferred it
that way
honesty is nice, but you have to sometimes pay the price
i guess, you are afraid
people of the past were not kind
and some are still having a hard time understanding what kindness is
what humanity is, what life is all about
what poetry is driving at like a hammer to a nail
poetry is a reaction, and you are the stimulus,
on that push and pull, on that tagging and haggling
we are poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem