Can you imagine the stilt-legged horses flirting with each other
When the melancholy of the moon is the loss of it's mother?
Smoke came forth and it had choked her clear blue skies
And now all the little moon does these days is cry
Can you imagine this masquerade circus all falling over?
What wretched bad luck, so much for that four leafed clover!
The way we achieve and recover our tattered composure
Required endless patience but little exposure
If all we are are butterflies
Why did you forget your net?
You just let us fly into the night
And you're alone again I bet...
Can you imagine the purity of the wasteful lives we live
When the autumn aligns with twilight with something to give
The plastic pixels that make up optimistic souls
Are what we eat alive until we find we're full
If all we are are parasites
Where did you keep the disease?
And good things come to those with light
But in darkness you're on your knees!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem