after the lapses,
i conclude: this
is a hormonal
matter, a secretion
when it gets out
of my system, another
scene falls, this
man becomes strong,
and discriminating
and can tell which is
which. This is right.
Not until the filling
comes again, the lymph
nodes, the gonads,
rebuilt is the corner
where you are again
blind and tasteless,
and you love what is
actually detestable,
but let it go, just
let it go, it gets
out of your system again
and here you are as
real as real, now
hold on, keep this
state ecstatic, you
are you, and you now
know which is true, and
real and divine, keep
this, make a record,
mark it, another mile
stone, always remember.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem