There is a certain seriousness
about poetry which i sometimes suppress
with triviality hoping to set something more important aside
we laugh, we really laugh so hard, you must remember
when we play with words and exchange metaphors
i simply want to be kind to humor which somehow saved us
from our own destined perdition
fallen angels, broken glasses
scattered leaves, alien winds
when i am left alone sometimes, when you are making yourself busy
counting the petals, or cleaning the plates, or accounting for the spoons and forks,
or folding the linens
i cannot help but go deeper into the core of my being
as i beat my chest with my fist saying
poetry is a serious thing
no one jumps away from it like a parachutist
and then landing on the field with
the honors
that he did not die on that impact
of grief
when you come back show me that smile
that tells me
that something in you is changed
just like the way i take things now
each letter is accounted, each word has meaning
each poem an experience
of shaken earth, of breathtaking sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem