You're a specialist
Aren't you really
And the thing you specialise in
Is so concrete
It's the sin
You're stupid
Aren't you sickened cupid
And the thing you're stupid for
Is so specific
It's your skin
You're perfect
Aren't you proud to affect
And the thing you're perfect to
Is so unseen
It's the incomplete
You're so bold
Isn't this that you still hold?
And the shadows you're bold to
Are not that specific
They are your head that twisted
Before the dark pacific
And you hold
One black thought
When will I succumb
To the thorough?
Well, when are you going to be
More faded before the sea?
For, the thing you wish to see extinct
Is dying right now underneath your skin
Only to get reborn after two days
To grant you a fresh itch
So define the second that you' ll be
Less definite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem