forget work for a while
leave the paper piles as they are
let them grow
up to the sky
let reality be a mountain
before you
and let things work on
themselves
let them have hands
and feet
let them have wings
and fly away
it is poetry time
my heart is king and the rest
of these fantasies
are nymphs and fauns
come butterflies
come stars
let them know that there are wings
and light and fire and glitters and diamonds
comes the moon shining
this lady coming too early at noontime
dancing on my table
with fireflies and lies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem