The poems
Such as they are
Come to me
I have them
And I live with them
And through them-
But what are they really?
And what am I really?
And if they were true poems
What would they too be in the end?
Brief is life
And brief is art
And brief brief
All we know of human destiny
The empty spaces and the endless stars
And the worlds we will never know
Are beyond us
In all dimensions
And we are alone
Praying to God
With our fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem