Like watching a continuing series I can’t stop and
take stock or try to watch earlier episodes - what
is lost is lost, no time to back-track, must move on
to the next episode broadcast; even in reruns of
‘So You Think You Can Dance’, I don’t want to go
Back to beginnings, just move with the latest in an
old series - same goes writing my poetry to record
life and attendant feelings, I can’t die yet because I
can’t stop to take stock, to reduce the fresh young
growths of inspiration to Japanese-styled
Bare bamboos in a few significant lines, my ideas
are still all curlicues and dreams, young blooms un-
ready to be trimmed to bare essentials or polished
to shining hard surfaces, ice-cold glittering facets -
can’t die yet because time will come to a stop and
Take stock; impossible right now, episodic series
of my life not over - and contemporary inspiration
& ideas still superordinate quiet consideration and
rumination - so dying in hope of experiencing an
infinite series of being cannot be fulfilled as yet…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem