the Sisyphus
in
Siargao
takes his surfing board
rides
the bosom of the
sea
finds a bigger
wave
slides and then
stands on it
feeling like a
king
of foams
and when the waves
simmer
into a flat
water
he floats again
and again
waiting for
another
bigger
wave
and this he does all
the days of
his life
all the days
of his life
all the days
of his life
not looking for
himself
or anybody
not needing
anybody's
hand
or mouth
not feeling a
body
a soul
numb to
the world
un-
felt too
by anyone....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem