“Not to worry.”
said a voice,
in a dream.
“Not to worry.”
said the voice
“For soon, you will be coming home.”
“Not to worry.”
said a vision,
a woman,
an angel,
devine,
radiant,
beaming,
glorious,
in love,
in warmth,
in splendor,
“Not to worry.”
said a voice
“For soon, you will be coming home.”
“But how can I know? ” I asked.
“How can I know that this is not
purely
just a dream?
Devoid of significance?
A meaningless
construct of my own
sub-concious?
How can I know? ” I asked
“You can’t.” replied the voice
“And, such is the torture
of your state of
being,
of your manner of existence.
Such is the price levied
for your failures,
for your arrogance,
for your mistakes,
for your wars,
such is the price.
But,
not to worry.
For soon you will be coming home.”
“Not to worry.” Said the voice
in a dream,
said the vision,
the angel,
radiant,
beaming,
“Not to worry.
For soon you will be coming home.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem