it is irritating as it is
always complaining demanding
that this must be that or that
that must be this
the human being being becomes a
thing through this
the pronoun becomes it
somehow you like to go away
and leave things as they are
sail on a boat, hop on an island
and just be alone to relax
but it is simply impossible
because no man is ever an island
one is simply a part of a community
and the rule had always been
that one must be flexible enough
in order to survive
and so here i am with this thing
this human being turning into a thing
a companion of the journey
which had always been a liability to me
move on, move on, become deaf and
blind and mute
do not say anything do not look at
this thing, focus towards a direction
do the task, and accomplish everything
and just like the man on that
bloody cross, you will say
'consummatum est'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem