Madness of the Muse
 
When a poet under the tree
Touches a leaf, swearing
It is a roof,
When he touches a roof
And says,
It is the firmament
Then know that
The madness of the muse
Has caught up with him
 
Give him a third eye
Give him a fourth eye
To be able to see
And understand simple rhymes
 
If he still insists
He sees better than the eyes
Clearer than his mind
Then collect the third eye
Collect the fourth eye
And give him a stick
To goad him out
Out of poets’ stead
Because, he soon shall say
Mountains are pillars
Supporting the sky