The thoughts.. those I scribble
At times, I find them more concrete
And more confusing that I myself
Try to apprehend them and clear them.
It’s in this genesis of my mind;
I truly ask, either I’m genius of my thinking
Or I’m born genius, towards my thoughts.
For, I work folly all along &
All around with the weird thoughts
Which end up being thoughtful.
The negative capability here sits on the foreground
Of discussion, wherein a fool pretends to be wise.
As goes the adage “A fool do think he is wise
But a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem