the mind is so huge
the thoughts widely embracing
the skull is embarrassing
the eyes inhospitable
ideas close and open
enclosed and
the brain begins to ache
so much for all these
and yet
least compensating
the day ends without
fruits on its hands
the night talks of dreams
no longer
receptive the eyelashes
restive upon
a line of the slit
nothing much
but silly talk
flak, plaque and
bubble
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem