Sensed and Insensible
I gazed at the stars
And the stars twinkled back
I gazed at my neighbor
And he looked at me
I stared at my enemy
And he stared back
We listened to elders
Elders didn'y listen to us
We listened to children
the children didn't heed
We heard the enemy
The enemy didn't listen
We smelled the war
The air smelled of us
We smelled the enemy
And they smelled black
We smelled and we rotted
Couldn't stink any stronger
Entwining tongues
Tasted and uttered and talked
Till the apple
Gave of itself
Some of it bitter
Some of it good
We touched the thorny
Flower of talks
Hope flowered and pricked us
Our weeping river of blood
Continues to flow
Seeps into the ground
When will we come to our senses
Shimon Weinroth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well crafted poem ... a Minimalist poem.