for in truth how can days be empty
with the sun up high
and grasses green below
and clouds of blue
in between?
those hollow men
chests filled with air
and words
without clarity and direction
words without meaning
spoken
without flesh and bones
promises and promises
nothing real
shattered principles
broken glass
indeed there are only empty
men speaking their
empty words
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem