a boat stays on the silent pond
beneath the trees with wide branches
it is tied
not so tight
any child can let it loose
and release it and soon
it will go and
we wonder
what is it that it is waiting for
and for whom shall
this boat go
there is this ride that each shall take
no one wants to take it earlier
always one says later
later
there is no hurry
the children have grown and they wear
faces like yours
they go away and you are left alone
with the person you love
you have a conversation
time goes like a stranger
the friends you know have either grown old
or have died and their coffins pass by your house
you remember
memories and you smile at the youth you once had
you remember the boat
the child in you has loosened it
you pick up on what was easily forgotten
you cope up
you say you want the ride now
it is dark
and the silence spreads on the paddle
the ripples exude the essence of the journey
you hold a hand
and you sit comfortably without worry
it is time to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem