the earth
turns round and round
feeding on time
on and on
second upon second
minute upon minute
hour by hour
year by year
decade by decade
century by century
burying me
till i am nothing
more than
a fraction
of a millionth
of second
a fragment of
bone, small
as dust
a mere breath of air
and too small
for anybody
to give a thought to
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem