did i tell you that in this life what we see is what we get?
like william's
red wheel
barrow
words are things
and things are words
interchangeable
you see what i see
but what i see need not be what you know
and what you know
need not be seen by me
just like a red
wheel
barrow beside the
white
chickens
it is great
behind the lines is this child's death
eyes closing
forever
you stand by the side of the window
helplessly looking somewhere where you become nothing
but
this speck of dust
falling on that red
wheel
barrow glazed by rain
water beside the white chickens
a thought falling
endlessly on a chasm that sinks deep within you
helplessly, you,
just stand there for in truth we are here just to see how things come and go
and then we go too, like the white chickens
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem