A koan is a question that is almost unanswerable.
The long, bloody, sword of memory –
When it can no longer cut,
When those wretched thoughts
Are no longer there,
Where will I be?
I like this and know how true it is. Since I have recently retired and started writing poems like you did, I feel like I am sharing experiences. It seems like the memories of the regretful past persist more so now than the happy ones, and, of course, one dwells on the future of this soon-to-pass experience.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When flame is extinguished where does it goes......................Good Write..........