sometimes you can almost see it.
those who see it
keep it to themselves or
take it for granted, as
a sort of birthright, though
sometimes, later perhaps, or
even too late for you to hear
or to themselves with regret as of a gift withdrawn
remember it and marvel
you yourself –
does it ever dazzle you, or
is it too soon followed, smothered,
with some guilt, a burden born and borne?
or for a moment, quiet at home,
dazzled, ecstatic, heart melted by that radiance?
you, sitting so still in the waiting room or
at the bus stop, in a crowded train,
radiance withdrawn, disguised
as no-one, anyone,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem