What fun I have is quite debatable,
As in the fleeting moment of the throng,
Its laughter and its lighting is but able
To shift my senses sideways not too long.
And though the pleasure seekers seek it out,
To find some sweet distraction from themselves,
I merely find such fun of little clout,
Wishing for my work in which to delve;
To fly and carve through space my minions high,
And on a whim to tear them down again,
To try and find an answer for the sigh,
So filled with life and sadness as the rain.
As different as the lazy Moon and the busy Sun,
We can quite become our work or work at having fun.
(CBB Aug 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem