THERE WAS NO PLACE TO GO BUT A POEM
There was no place to go but a poem
Perhaps I could hide there
Perhaps I could find myself there
Perhaps I could simply feel better there
At a time when my feeling was under the ground
There was no place to go but a poem
I am going there now
But the afternoon does not open like a bluer sky
I know after all that there are no completely blue skies
The afternoon lingers and waits
And the poem I have gone to
Makes its slow way down and across the page
as if every real help
must come as anguish
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem