Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Why Things Don'T Think Of Us, Too, In Return? - Poem by Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Why not let troubled things talk and hold council with you?
Or do you relish the birth-pangs' banging between clashes?
Things can't talk, yes, or can they? !
You may only proffer your own fantasy
To give them a mouth-piece?
What are we then?
Just simply a piece of flesh, sensing the numbness of the chair we sit on?
Or are we the brain in the chair? !
I found it not to be a madman's pass-time, only, to let things talk to me through myself:
That perilous leaning tower did exactly not tumble over me when I walked past,
As I had beseeched it not to do so.
And be it that I was just delayed for its fateful fall for speaking my prayers.
And, as a trusting thanks-giver, I find,
I'm yet faring best with things.
And how sweet things may talk to one!
And then they won't talk more than I want them to.
And let us not forget: people are things, too!
And they say, all is in one.
Things called it god.
Comments about Why Things Don'T Think Of Us, Too, In Return? by Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.