I'm headed down river
and wherever I'm going
I'll know when I get there
if a warm wind is blowing
memory is a demon
that howls in an alley
beyond a black mountain
and down a lost valley
I know what it means
to climb in a nightmare
to an old oaken doorway
at the top of a dark stair
till the sun gently rises
and a rooster that crows
says the more that I think
the less my heart knows
and my only religion
is just too absurd
and flees the death cage
like a pale panicked bird
I'm headed down river
and wherever I'm going
I'll know when I get there
if a warm wind is blowing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem