All that I write will someday be all that is left of me.
No more words will be expressed in books of poetry, no
more ink impressing paper.
What will future generations think of me? Will I be
taught in English Lit?
There is no way of knowing the answers to these questions,
yet I will continue to write in spite of this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem