What is this thing of considerable size
That lies within our chest:
The heart,
That goes on beating, beating,
Full its part?
A man once said to me,
'You should be glad that you
Don't have to tell that thing to beat.'
And I cringed a child's wonder
At how much I really had to say about it.
Not much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem