she had to walk alone
trek the mountain paths
winding towards the sky.
she alone must tread her
way towards her misfortune.
we are sad for her but we
will be as cold as our
inborn neutrality.
our own arrogance is ours.
and so is hers. Our own
dumbfounding silence is ours
alone. Did we not train
ourselves for those long gazes
in those long roads where we
are supposed to reach
the ends of truths?
where there is not only
one but two, and three and
even endlessly four.
we are sad, we are determined
somehow to keep this tradition
alive, to watch and see and
then to bang the gavel,
hammer the silence of this
chosen cruelty.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem