the time has come
for the wilting of the flowers
the drought
the drying up of our rivers
the proliferation of dust
the death of a friend
the season for funerals
as we pretend day by day
that everything is still all right
that poetry still works
we have foreseen all these
i am prepared
like a fish hibernating
inside a cracking mud
i have foreseen
too the coming
of another beginning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem