((sung in melody of bob dylan's 'gates of eden', key of Bb))
phantasmal morning drops of rain salute the morning streets
as daisy blossoms lilt and bend where forest dwellers meet
outside the gentle, hovel homes and larval walls of steel
the ashcan ramblers argue of what's false and what is real
but really all they wish to see is that which conceals their fear
they only see what's there inside their vision
the pied and motley droves of men in dank and hideous clothes
must travel past the sea of grins, and quiet, unfriendly blows
the skid row harlot sheds her clothes like shackles of her past
her velvet, lonesome, dusky eyes are what her john sees last
but really all he wants to see is a world without heartbeats and embrace
all he sees is lust inside his vision
the lowly, humble poet contemplates his last mistake
he let the wild roses die before he'd one to take
now he sits alone with deepened monastery eyes
staring at the bitter dusk through which she still replies
but really all he wants to see is one last tender kiss
all he sees are mad, nostalgic visions
the tattered thieves and clowns are lost but still except their place
all looking for a place where people understand their tastes
in life and love and verse and law with pontificating smiles
but silver tongued people reel you in, a soft beguile
but really all they wish to do is be excepted by the slaves
who point their nose up high against their visions
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Terrific poem Luke. I love the lines 'the lowly, humble poet contemplates his last mistake he let the wild roses die before he'd one to take'. There's definitely a beat influence going on here. Kerouac would be proud.