Unable in finding pied a Terre
like lost souls we wonder
building castles in the air
like hammers which thunder
we run and we wander
as Gogols on Dantes' rim
like coiled celluloid
while Freud didn't help
we try to defy death
and whilst we're at it
forget to understand Jung
were looking in mirrors
like spoiled vagabonds
Bohemians we'd wish
from the East rises the Sun
and from West the cool moon
and all to soon we realise
that we forgot the art of
being the answer
like a Degas dancer
-not to ask what,
not to answer why-
we reach out for the sky
while we die and we yawn
a Munch out of breath
forgetting 'how' to die
with whom we love
close-by, ....bye..! M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life and death! Being part of us; along the paths of nature. Thanks for sharing.