Something Dig
Who would you desire such a world of mountain?
I myself do not, not even make me a king of things
Who would you desire the diseases of soul?
I myself do not, not even master my thought of swings
Who would you take it as the conscious big-rolls?
I myself do not, not even mention how costly it rocks
Who would you take the road most less travel
Just to perpetuate a lie that the big problems
will be solved whenever the eyes meet its goal?
Alas! where will the mountain of truth stop its denial
& open its narrow way to the perplexed mind of men?
How the gigantic art of the galaxies
Dwells in this phenomenal heart, and ask
Something dig
The Mountain
Our absurd farce
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Where is the last piece of the puzzle?