he does not like to use numbers
and so all his numbers are letters
and all his thoughts in numbers
are written in letters including the
date when his poem is written
making it the very title of the same
and all his emotions are in letters
even though he knows that each
feeling has a corresponding number
and even the colors are numbered
in letters. Blue is the number four.
Nine is class. Forty-seven is pride.
ninety-nine is not perfect and
one hundred is too much for an
old aging man like him who likes
to arrive at zero and then enjoy
his much needed rest. He likes to
be happy and wants to sleep, so he
begins to write, one, two, three, four,
five, six.... and so on and so forth.
autistic savant, they all call him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
just wondering..... how did four become blue? nine, class? and forty seven as pride? i just know why ninety nine is not perfect.......