That fake costume of the ego
Puts on another show, pretending
To have holes and broken parts
That need to be filled or covered up!
The world of shapes seems incomplete,
Don't search for fulfilment under its sky,
Its nature is transitory and reverie-like,
Fall not under its tempting charms.
You are the vacuum in which costumes float,
The gaps and the filling
The suffering and the cure,
Go find this way out of the skin!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem with fine imagery like 'You are the vacuum in which costumes float, '.