From closed nets of thoughts,
Their sterile,
Sad surmises,
To crow’s nests of oughts
With feral,
Glad surprises,
The mind’s blood clots
As heart’s
Doubt rises.
Terrible the knots
That hobble us
In disguises!
[6-4-05 Berkeley, CA]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem