you do not deserve it
but no one is telling.
you are my friend, i
too can lie.
tonight you will be
in the home of my arms
safe and warm
studded with stars
your sky
gleaming with pride
galaxy
art anyway is but an
imitation
fake, so what is the heck?
in our own ways we are
all artists
as we toast our drinks to
our muses
up there, they are dead.
down here, we quarrel. or
if we are silent, it is
because of respect....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem