Prismatic letters blending on the screen
argued f[r]ee experience, but crude
lie paints to tease, or paper solitude.
Its script, top thesis, heartache sensed, not seen.
Man ventures on, each seeks fantasy keen,
playing normal trust. Most change their mood,
sham is to show sun-side, though players brood.
Ever effaced are clairvoyance, spring clean.
Sharing snapshots, plans that “might have been”,
Time mocks dreams to play games, to welcome spleen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem