When I'm an ancient,
A caged cockatoo with nothing to do but moult
I'll straddle Pegasus and hitch a ride.
I'll own a mischievous zimmer
I'll abseil down the cracks upon my forehead
Thoughts will glissade off mountains
There will be an avalanche of poems.
Though they drug my Horlicks
Though my teeth may clack like coconuts hung out to dry
Though I may wear a beard as grey's Tiresias
Though I spray my pshaws on the fronds of plastic vines
I'll continue to saunter down the valley of fantasy
Visitors will come bearing alms
Fluffy cardigans, or mint imperials
I must wear my props then, my medical aids
All the better to see you with, my dear
All the better to hear you with, my dear
All the better to eat you with my dear.
Watching the threads on the carpet growing thinner
Preparing to meet the Minotaur licking his bull-black lips
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem