yesterday's conversation was a pendulum
of grandfather's clock
we were there swinging to and fro
it was complicated and we discussed to simplify
what was complicated that we made
so complicated.
we planted such simple seeds on the ground
time made it grow
into a vine. A squash seed growing into a crown.
A tree. A pole. A merry-go-round. A funeral.
A coffin, a carriage. A wreath.
Then back to the crown, and laurels, and trumpets.
you like a simple life, but there isn't baby.
you said you do not want to complicate.
But life has become so sophisticated and
Cannot confront simplicity with a short, concise smile.
There are tears. Rivers of tears.
You shy aways from convolutions.
But life is convoluted baby. The turbulence within that you
Refuse to state with dignity.
The storms raging inside us.
They shake us and we pretend there is none to speak?
What a mess! What a life!
Repeat it. What a life I have!
I am merry. I am happy. I am whistling. I am singing. I am dancing.
You are the newly crowned fool
of this division.
Congratulations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem