We live in the loneliness of ourselves (For Alfred Kazin Critic)
We live in the loneliness of ourselves
We try to read
The world as our own.
But most deeply we know
We too are idiosyncracies-
Time passes
Lifetimes of meaning accumulate
But still on our own
Turning the pages
The book we have written
In our reading
Is inexplicable and unknown
Even to ourselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A dream is dreaming us. Nicely expressed.