WHAT THIS ENTIRE WORLDSPIDERWEB IS ABOUT...
The day of the funeral
an intense cold.
The lions roaring
in the zoo beyond
Fluntern Cemetery.
The confluence of
the rivers he loved
obscured from view
as if forever.
The sun too
a milky misty light.
The silence of the necropolis
broken only by an old deaf man
asking all the time:
'Who...is to be...buried here? '
And when he hears, repeats:
'But who is James Joyce? '
Grave No.1449 is
meant to be temporary
but even in death
he is Ireland's outcast.
His daughter's madness flickers:
'Cet imbécile...what is he..'
Again a roar of lions.
''...doing under the ground
when will he decide to leave! '
Again the deaf man's question.
'He's watching us
all the time.'
As indeed he is.
Life but a Work in Progress.
The author leaves
his death
walks abroad
in all his words.
'bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem