AFTER THE LAST POEM HAS BEEN WRITTEN
When I am dead
After the last poem has been written
And the songs of praise
I never heard in my life
Begin to come
Will it matter really
If they do not come
And all the years after
Are as much my oblivion
As the years before have been?
Known or unknown
Afterwards
Praised or never praised
I have lived and written-
What more do I have a right to ask?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem