Beatiest of beats let me address you 
as you America. Let me bless you 
charleychaplin poet that you are 
like Ferlinghetti spreadeagled in air 
like Sandberg in Chicago like Burroughs AWOL 
as you build up your argument to howl 
at the barriers and choices in all existence 
your words' steam engines go the distance 
freshness and fury and spirit all churned 
together till somehow they have learned 
to answer back as good as you get. 
No one has shouted down America yet 
and made America listen and pause. 
You move inexorably clause by clause 
explain to America where to get off 
with a smile and a laff and a wave and a cough 
as you smell the world 's most exciting flower. 
I'd rather think of you in Morden Tower. 
I like to think of you reading there 
with your beat poet friends in the city where 
I was trying so hard for the ordinary life, 
not to be a poet and not to write, 
(and about the same time in London town 
Denise Levertov wandered around)  
what, not be a poet, what a waste of breath, 
what a crime, what a sin, what a loss, what a death 
and whatever my country its state or time, 
Ginsberg you gave me permission to rhyme, 
for politics, passion came down to this, 
the word was the sword, just word with an s, 
a reason to dance and a mandate to sing, 
a line to scribble and a truth to bring, 
to throw your mantle over everything                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    