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It’s Life

October 15, 2012

              It’s  Life

 

I can’t tell stories, I can’t tell a fiction.

I don’t know the adjectives, long words…

I write only simple phrases

which I picked up everywhere, with diction

from the movies, the street and the courts,

which nobody  amazes.

 

Don’t send me to read or to the translator,

it confuses me and doesn’t know anything

about  romantic ideas:

first I ask „head“ and it says „chief“,  a predator,

it rings when I ask the frase for sunny spring,

puts the object instead

 

the subjective blossoming of the flowers;

it doesn’t know the wind can’t blow up

and I can’t read much.

My poem is becoming the problem of ours,

and my turn is only to make the coffee of cup,

life’s such

.1410  1441

 

 

 

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From → epigram

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