Torn clothes
And dirty relative
Beard-full though not long
White haired, a little bald,
He moved askance
He moved possessed
By vision, not a saint,
To saint-vision equivalent but in genius
Possessed by the Muse
He roamed
He walked directionless
And full of verse
Yet sang not
Verse
Yet sang not
Word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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