Regular glimpses of truth
Provided by vocation
Kept regret at bay.
I neglected funeral arrangements.
No no-man's-land exists
In my line of work,
Sudden death's a hazard.
I have one last poem to glimpse.
I am being taken
At approximately the same age
At which pleasure-seekers
Should be taken
If long regret
And its vocation of tomb arrangement,
Instead of changed vocation,
Is not to set in.
Pity not overly:
That age is not as early
As it used to be.
One day they all too
May keep regret at bay,
Taken...suddenly...late.
Entombed conservatively.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Vocation over preoccupation to focus on ultimate destination and ceremony's consternation, good write and evocative, hopefully no jinx, just plenty more time for hi jinx.