Pity the poor fools
Scrambling all about
Dithering up the clock
Looking for gold
To brighten their dreary lives
They’re just too blind
To see
The gold is there
Glittering nuggets waiting to be mined
Deep in the dark unclaimed passages
Of themselves.
(Previously published in The Oracular Tree, June 2000)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem