so time's done
its work on you
thrown you about
on the sharp irregularities
of chance
you struggled
against powers that be
forces larger than the perceptible
you used thought and purposeful action
to shape destiny -
but randomness, that school of whales,
tossed you about
powers fade
and beauty is a consolation;
nature strengthened for use
and drained you when it was done
you can invoke philosophy
and the pleasantries of prayer
you can use rhetoric to obscure what you see
but it's all just a looking-away
you know in your heart
time and nature conspire
to create, serve and discard
with not so much as a thank-you
while the dying mind thinks myths
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem