The Most Ordinary Of Men Poem by Robert Rorabeck
The Most Ordinary Of Men
Knowing nothing of a girl’s love,
But lost into her
Like vendors in a flea market in the deepening
Shadows underneath an overpass:
And whispering to her after midnight even when she
Is in bed with another man:
That this religion will not mend- it cannot even
Be sold;
And we go to sleep kissed by our dogs:
Like frogs dream to become princess, or even
At least the most ordinary of men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 11:05:10 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
