the sound of your speech
the way you enunciate your vowels
create the impression of whether
you deserve power or not
the hands must not be clumsy
but gripping sort of strong
and hard and clinging like a vine
like a chameleon
change the color of your skin
instantly as change of gear in a car
to get to the destination
and arrive there with so much pretense
for grace and success,
where are we now? do not ask
show a definite stance
this is the place of my power
our castle of virtue
our paths to enlightenment
there is the sound of contentment
alone but not lonely
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem