well, as he told me
before he succumbed to death
before he scattered his last breath
he said
he survived by entwining himself
with his own arms
his fingers wrapping
his body
and his mouth was kept shut
all those hard years
he kept his eyes
alive he made his skin
feel everything
he knew pretty well
every detail of his
surroundings
the wall clock ticking
reminded him
of wasted time
some dripped
without regret
he kept the walls
stronger
he learned to live
with the haze
and the clouds
he walked like
he was blind
and he loved
everyone
to survive was simple
enough
daily he unlearned
what life really
was all about
it is not much on
the thinking
it was more of
the doing
even insensibly
taking all nonsense
as though
they are his truths
and the truths
of the whole world
at the end there was
only disbelief
and then he believes
in life again
from there
the blank slate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem