it is a fact of your life
you marry
and have children
and grandchildren
and years pass by
leaving you
with wrinkles and
arthritis
bones that crack
and a brain that
does not remember
recent things
anymore
finally you find yourself alone
in your room
for they too shall find life
of their own
even your wife
has to struggle with her thoughts
and then you begin
to find
the company of God
as something
missing
long been missing
your hands are empty
your heart so hollow
you find yourself back to
where you once began
a cry and then
the silence and the sigh
now,
back to the entrance
and then
the most awaited
exit door
light slipping on the
holes of the wall inside
a dark room
ah, you are in a monologue
the air listens
like a vacuum inside a glass
less dramatic
but should be with
more glory, perhaps...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem