i have seen the picture of an old man
beside a huge oak tree
the picture is old
black and white and the kind of one that is strong
for it will last another lifetime
i have not seen the old man
neither the huge oak tree for real
i have the picture of the old man and the old oak tree
and the younger man sleeping
his smooth skin caressed by the fluffing grass
there is a story there and it is all about
gods and dogs
a film about a director who lost his fame
and fortune
about a young gardener who captures a heart
and made it bleed
at the end the old man met a happy death
the old oak tree was gone
but i have not really seen what is real
i have seen only the picture of what i thought could have been real
black and white
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem