You cannot know
For you will be dead
When the fleeting hint
Of perfume's shed
And the petals fall
And your hand is ice
And your lips are stone:
You do not go to your grave alone
And where is the scent
Of the roses going?
It has fled to somebody's head
To blood streams
And knowing
Something besides flowers and tears, you know
This fixed stance gels.....no more can you grow
To add some final flourish
To beg some grace,
To heal some wound,
To say
Anything you did not say before
There is no more
Into the wind you will be going
And blind in the sun, and blowing
And what the world knows
You will leave to their knowing.....
Though it be a lie down to the last crowing....
Except..... there is a faint something....
In somebody's heart, when they hear your name
A something for somebody
That will not be the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem