I saw what vanished from under the nose
Of feathers that crawl beneath the soul of roses;
Nothing reminds me of the days ahead,
On this stage I commit my jokes and laughter
To fuse with the concepts of disgust, worry and deceit.
I have seen the Unseen with bold eyes,
Internal eyes shall stare at the venomous words,
Deeds are internal like the succumbed ones.
I saw that the phantoms of disgust beheld our activities,
Broad and skinny, the ghouls of the past passed into
A joke of some sort, and a joke is only too simple
When ghosts are afoot with existences and joys
Of the late art, of the late art, of the late artists.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem