More have I known; more will someday my memories ache
What good is knowledge, when someday my breath sprints away?
What pleasure shall I see, when am no better than the dust of the earth?
Is it true that someday the trumpets would sound?
Should I now worry whether they might be right?
In my head inconceivable memories collide
In my heart solitude is infamous
This harvest indeed was beautiful
As seeds from different seas yielded a common dream
As I fly beneath the sky daydreaming of this illusion
It all comes to me again, invisible tears!
It only visits when I've had enough memories
and only leaves when am glued to silence
Who'd ever know how real these thoughts make me feel?
Who'd never care about his last days in fear?
How many know whether we'll remember memories?
How do you know the dead know nothing?
Now I do not know how I feel
Nor what to say
I cannot tell if it left or not
But I know that someday it'll die with everything I knew
Why then was I chosen for this harvest?
For what reason did I meet these seedlings?
For whom should I bud?
Was I visited alone?
February 08,2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem