Mirrored
craggful face
of hagful mouth,
yawning
tired eyes
cried outside emptiness,
still void suckling
of wisdom.
Unstill head
of unwed memories.
Painted clown
of downtrodden
askew ideas, fears
of unfulfilled
completive years.
Task of your mask
to dance with you
unfertiile, futile dances
in secondary person,
to improve or worsen
with the unstable illusion
or your own reflection.
Times imperfection.
Waf
You're not clowning around. Nothing positive said, about clowns I agree, they are a parody of reality. Written with force and poetic conviction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Upsetting portrait of a pathetic clown- not the way we like to think of clowns: but the poem exposes something depressing about the whole identity. Profound for a clown.
Behind the mask is sadness. Thanks for your interest. Sally.