I WROTE TOO MANY POEMS
I wrote too many poems
I forgot too many
I did not distinguish which important
And which not-
I could not say which were only play,
And which the heart of what I needed to say-
I wrote too many poems
And now unable to read them all
I continue writing new ones,
As if the old ones did not exist-
As if whatever I write
Is for the moment of its writing only
And all the rest
Only a dream lost long ago-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Shalom Freedman as long as they were your dreams, they visited you, perhaps made love to you, or faught with you, kissed you or bit you, had a interesting conversation or barked at you, as long as they were you, you lived.