I see grief coming like a cloud
the storm is inevitable
the loss is like a hurricane
I am working through it
the dying wish is to know
how long do I have
the doctors do not know
nor friends nor sympathetic eyes
I hear the rumble of thunder
death is on the horizon
death is the setting sun
the anger of scarlet is in the dusk
but nothing changes
will I wake at dawn
will I finish my fragile dream
today's omen is a broken clock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So well depicted what seems to be an agony of the human soul in front of the problem of its substance of existence: an everlasting one or sth it fades away someday! But here I could say one sees more the concioussness of the erudite soul that recognizes how nice it is to have lived in this world whose even a minute is much more precious than a permanent life in another...world.