It is common with man to worry,
to query things he ought not to...
or things that fascinate his mind with their impossibilities.
It is the fashion of ours - we call modern.
We no longer appreciate those things that just are,
we fester for knowledge,
we are bound by our course,
relenting eventually to our findings.
It is the outcome, that what we find elusive,
is found,
or that it is not.
Simply because we are surrendered:
to the infiniteness of our answers,
or that intuition realises it without spent time,
or that what we find, is no longer accepted.
or that what is found seems undeserving,
an' the foly of man...
continues.
It a jest,
for me to dwell in the dutiful gloss,
the fancy,
that my generation achieves.
But that even I, susceptible...
can no longer find silence.
It is just a thought, only a thought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully observed is the phrase 'fester for knowledge' How true that is. A fine piece of conclusive writing on life. Best wishes Fay.