Finding is a mere refinding;
memory brings mere reminding.
Visions and epiphanies,
harmonies, antiphonies,
tours to places most exquisite
all sensations we revisit,
nothing new can be discovered:
pain of love that we have suffered,
joys of sex declared delightful,
dawn that follows every nightfall,
oaks that reason can’t repress
acorned from our consciousness.
4/30/00,5/13/07
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Oaks that can't reason repressed / Acorned from our consciousness' Cracking lines, Gersh. Enjoyable poem. Love, Gina.