(i)
Loitering within
Myself, a deep barrel,
Floats me through
A narrow pipe,
Moon-lit thoughts
Brighter than
Ripe fruits in a sun-lit tray,
Where my mouth is prey
To the thick flesh
Devouring it
In chunks and lumps
Of overcrowded
Wet concrete driven
Through a narrow
Tube's throat, yet sinking
Into guts not ready
To digest unchewed bones:
(ii)
A mind's belly
Too full to filter coarse
Food for sight
And disintegrating
Sounds from Mars,
As ear soon breaks
Into light strings
And threads, sinking it
Down a deep pit,
Where flickering
Butterflies' desperation
Reign with stars
On raised rocking
Couches, growing as tall
As a horned double-faced
Beast handing out
A handshake, a sword
Turned against self.
(iii)
Strolling out
Into a cleanshaven
Wilderness,
Gravel and sands sitting
On planed
And polished glass,
The only grass.
It puts the mind
In a free-floating balloon,
Whose million-mile
Legs stretch its
Wiggling feet to filter
Through
To a rare desert rose.
(iv)
As the roadrunner
Chases a piece of lightning,
Dry dust pastes
New spectacles
On an itchy smarting face
Melting into tear screens,
Long-sighted lenses
To sketch and spray
Whydahs and sandgrouses
Towing me
To honeysuckles
And cacti,
A fresh life's meadow
Of suns and stars
In a flickering
Candle's lips murmuring
The loud road.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem about being an introvert and an extrovert, the important lesson being not to lose one's identity, as either option may be appropriate or inappropriate, as the case may be.