The Poet's Heart
The heart of a true poet
Is like an electricity meter;
If it is not loaded, it stops.
A poet is also like a lamp;
If it is not hung up, it does not give light.
But the gallows stool
Is under the feet of the one who hangs him.
Stools are very strange four-legged things.
They are more faithful than two-legged beings and four-legged creatures.
We sit on them to rest,
And we also lean our shoulders against them.
There is no human left to lean your shoulders on anymore.
But still,
Stools are also very unfaithful.
When we are hanged, they run away from under our feet.
We fall into eternal darkness.
And such eternal darkness
Is better than this world.
Because now the source of light
Is not enlightened people.
Now the source of light
Is police cars.
Can the poet's heart endure this?
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