bright lights shining
as the sun in the morning
when the dew drips fresh from its lips.
each step to be taken,
his love will awaken
to shine forth from his fingertips
can it bring to a youth
such pain so uncouth
no remorse, no regret can it keep.
its business is strict.
no child has it picked
to be saved with a single bound leap.
how crisp glide the walk
off fresh morning’s knock
to know of nearness begin;
so young yawning breath
unknowing of death
that acts as the closest of kin.
alive alive can it say
to share come what may
be brought to its lap with a smile.
oh death has its tricks –
its time on a fix
such guile, such guile, such guile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I wrote this poem as a reflection of my experience of the day my father died. A spritely seven-year old, I woke up my dad early that dismal October morning, eager to begin our beach day adventure, unaware of the tragedy that awaited us. It was supposed to be a fun, glorious day with my family. Alas ~ we can't really anticipate what the day will bring. That day - October 14,1979 - was a day I will never forget.