We are creatures who like
to number things,
name things.
We measure our lives
in days, months, years;
we measure our marriages
in anniversaries;
our years on earth
in birthdays.
From conception
our lives are parceled out
in seconds, hours,
days, years.
Sometimes it feels
as though all this segmentation
of time, this need to
compartmentalize existence
diminishes our experience—
as though we ourselves are
mere clocks and calendars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem which gives us pause for thought. You chose the language carefully and the poem has is well-anchored. This piece also concludes very well; the last two lines are a pleasure.