The ladders
Sometimes from the top to bottom
Sometimes from the bottom to top
It sometimes circled upward
Slender as hair
Some with a sudden turn
Some extended
Retreated
It’s endless
How many rungs of the ladder
Were stepped by the numerous feet?
Brought with the books
With the bouquet
With the cat
And holding a pair of small hands to go through
Dusts left the footprints on the ladder by walking up and down
How many the thousand hours
Grounding the ladder into the grooves
To play the rainwater within
Also flow the whimper
When break up the ladder of one’s history
And face
Like the petal to be pulled down
Blowing them to the air
Could not gather up the fragments
As hasty winkles in life
They stretched hands to the sky
Also fell down on the earth
Moonlight rising from the ladder
Burning the mountains by cold night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a nice poem, Catherine Yen. Read my poem, Love and L u s t. Thanks.