Whatever esoteric thing
One can experience
is,
in the end, a glimpse
at the simple,
concrete,
absolute
blink
of
knowing that
no “thing”
and every “thing”
can explain ITself
and “OTHERness”
and “ONEness” and
every word and
no word
can touch it (THINGs)
but One laughs, trying
all the same,
to figure ITself
out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem