With season
With trees' new leaves
-the roadsides and corners
-become hosts to old guests
-return the beggars, panhandlers…
As poet I have time to dream
-guessing, I imagine and as God
-create and give life with varied destinies
-take it out…and remain immune
-to: "How? Why? "
I make up stories
-and format scripts
-create heroes as protagonists, antagonists
-internal, external, complex…
Then direct the cast and give order to crew
-the stage, light, setting cameras
-then question "Audio? "
-hear them say: "Speed! "
Done pre and shooting
-start post with edit…
Soundtrack and colour
-finish the DCP
-movie is screened
-I am lone audience
But still in my car…
-and beggar nearby…
I have made story and movie
-time is set to be a journalist, critic
-so dig in very deep for details…
-the look and behaviours
-of the main character…
-as well as those around…
It is fun to be mad, crazy
-man of art…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem