Once invisible to the eye
now a colossus
that dies.
All things exist.
Yet this question contends:
why?
The years departing
leave us still blathering
with our sham and self-importance.
Yet no one knows
how it is possible that a colossus
has grown from a little seed
and dies.
We blind men,
feeling our way.
While behind us disappears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem