It slowly grows in a dish of hypo.
The image positive.
How I wish
The negative could be dismissed
By such a dark room trick,
With blinds drawn, with the red light
And with chemical magic!
Doubts resume as the sunlight enters
Our Consciousness.
But should we not address
A new faith in the creative act
Based on the pure fact of self
And Nietzsche's dream
Of the eternal return
And compose hymns to the beauty of being
Of seeing our own image
Transformed from negative
To positive
As in this dish of hypo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem