Stationing regards for everyday people, justifying their existence in an offhand way.
Laboring daily over actions, attempting to confine thoughts into squares of circles, leaving out words.
Abstracting meanings and images, peeling them like string cheese, a strand at a time, in order to think beyond creativity, folding ideas into an eternity of justification and a dictionary of novel words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem