i will now present my evidence
some exhibits beforehand marked
and you will be surprised, there will be no such exhibits
as
the moon, the stars, or comets or tails
or the fireflies,
tonight, is the night of my argument
a life lived without passion
a life dedicated to the dictates of reason
and bedded to logic
this is my war, i proclaim it against myself
it is myself against myself and myself arguing for both
opposing selves
why do you invoke poetry? why do you maintain a self
torn between softness and harshness
between objectivity and confusion
between light and Grey
enough of the hardbound books
of those sandcastles that the BiG sEA
destroys from time to tide
ebbing and rising and here i am waiting
for my verdict, i am guilty, i have always been guilty
and i pretend
i never knew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem