I may have to make a choice
between humanity, mystery and art.
If I ignore the existence of the giant
(as a supernatural issue) ,
and if,
instead of a tear as well,
the beggar at the door
is the ONLY necessary imperfection,
will I enjoy the feast inside the more?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perhaps as a beggar the beggar is perfection the real mystery remains without invisible subjugating wishful thinking through infinite intricate inconceivable interactions and 5 degress of interconnection ephemeral flush of introspection, the nature of attraction?