'Spring time offers are in full bloom:
Twenty percent of all products.'
O the imminent debasement
Of the seasons' symbols & signs.
No irony - just the hard sell
Of decorative distractions.
It's just a random array of
Garish colours & wild shapes;
That form our modern consciousness.
Life is increasingly puerile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem