(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

What do you think this poem is about?

The Future

The future: time's excuse
to frighten us; too vast
a project, too large a morsel
for the heart's mouth.

Future, who won't wait for you?
Everyone is going there.
It suffices you to deepen
the absence that we are.


Translated by A. Poulin

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: future, time, heart

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