it is the i
which speaks
i know what
excellence is
i have my own
standards
i do not speak
that much
i lurk in the
comfort of the
dark
the beauty of
dusk
retreats are
wonders of my world
where i speak to
my own silence
and there they are
in those wide ways
all fools, all fools!
stupid, stupid!
worshiping their own
idols and gods!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem