The thinkers sit alone; howling at the moon.
They look so scarred, as they grow old and bitter.
They reach out for faintly glowing distant stars,
But essential subsistence is out of reach.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for that Robert. I have a 2.1 Honours degree in philosophy and include related themes in my poetry from time to time. Nevertheless, the poem is not an exposition of philosophy rather it seeks to address how us thinkers feel in an increasingly superficial, consumer driven society..