I had it in me
to write a poem
in which all outside appearances
amused according to individual passions.
I made a carving in a rock
as a souvenir of one awesome outside experience.
A man of Spirit took exception:
his awe was inner to the core,
mine was more about the outer.
But what was more to me at the time
(though growing less soon after)
was that he thought me simple-minded
and what I carved was anything but:
'AWE'S NOT AS GOOD AS LAUGHTER'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem