stripped of our illusions
what are we?
stones on the river
dry leaves on the pavement
rusty fan on storage bins
dilapidated cottages
abandoned houses
desert, bush, turtles
with their backs taken
rabbits without ears
crocodiles without their
teeth
if we let that be.
but there is no need actually of an illusion
because we are real, we touch ourselves,
feel the warmth of our bodies
i try it by simply being myself
less my caprices and whims
less the ambition and the dreams
reduced in the most simple of simpler terms
to the core of it all, i am a happy man
knowing now the limits of my
domains, settling for what is there
nothing more, nothing less
it can be done, illusions are gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem