After reading Max Reif's poem' The day after Thanksgiving'
this notion came all of a sudden.
His poem's last line(the boat after passing a bridge, only the voice-
remained, then silence) .
This line penetrated me.
Silence haunts me always
even under the hot sun I see the darkness
cannot bear up at all.
It rings my eardrums
like an arrow, wound my heart
and I feel it's palpitation stopped.
What a mighty thing is silence?
at last who takes all of us to his domicile
the Graveyard?
Dedicated to the poet Max. Reif.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem