Each poem, for the poet
Is like a photograph
Stopping time for an instant
To capture
Something significant
Something that might be lost
In the translation of life and living
From one archaic alphabet to
Another
Do not try to connect the dots
Images laid in seeming relation
A punctuated purpose notwithstanding
Without noticing how your own eye
Restricts the periphery and blurs
The pointed center
From which knowledge and wisdom
Spring.
~ Laurence Overmire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem