Just wondering in the rain
Waiting for the storm
All is there in my brain
Waiting to take form
Bubbling underneath the surface
Trying not to show on my face
There can be no taming
Of this pure imagination
All is in the making
Of the information
All the things that come to me
Making up a story
In which I am free
And all we do is be
Hopping around the bees
But all comes to a freeze
Another story arrives
Replacing the old one
I follow it where it dives
Taking up another tune
A sadder one this time
All happens in mime
There can be no taming
Of this pure imagination
All is in the making
Of the information
There I was
And here I am
But there a baby cries
As here people cram
No need to move
No need for the dove
Because this
Is where it all ends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem