many years ago
there was no closeness
that stone that i was
cannot remember
now, there is a tree
touching the sky
on cold mornings
it has an intimacy with
the sun
and you look at it with
admiration
you are the grass now
the bird in you has flown away
you want to be counted
as part of the element of the sky
it is too late
they have known much of you
and you fall short
of the greatness
that they now
possess
accept that life is like
a wheel
you are not part of the
hub
you are the beetle
crushed
and dead....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem