Give me silence.
Take your song with you.
I have no song in my heart, no dance.
And motion boils the blood.
Take your dance with you.
I seek no motion to stir my mind.
Alone I shall sit sinking into the soul
until some truth swim by
and reach for it though slippery it be
with imagination's roving eye.
And, when I catch it, I'll come to you
with black truth on a silver platter,
and it will gleam and glow and swim
in some hearts as if it were
really all that should matter.
Should you come with your song
and your rapturous dance
to explain a life of devotion,
I shall insist that my supreme silence is
superior to all commotion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem