In The Ironic World Poem by Max Reif
In The Ironic World
In the ironic world,
sunlight falls
first upon a mirror before
reflecting to our Earth.
Thoughts are buried,
not spoken, and grow
into strange trees
with mutated fruits.
Even the air
goes somewhere
before our nostrils,
I can feel it. How I long
for naive, direct days that vanished
beneath the waves with the heroes
and are waiting
within my heart
to be re-born!
But what a delicious treasure to have in our hearts...waiting to be re-born! Here's to the new birth!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 5:05:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A 'delicious' nostalgia. Susie xx.