We see the times
and one's many faces
We see the moment
the emotions and mind changes;
the details puzzle oneself
and one's eyes dazzle
even one's own mind
It's a long way we've come
through earliest memory to this age;
we've caught our own images
in mirrors and glasses we pass by
The face one knows,
and one's own thoughts fair and foul
though, even at the end,
one does not know what
one's feet will gather
where one will lie at dusk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Van Gogh had such a talent but a restless soul