he used to speak before the pulpit using his
robe from Rome and people listened and then
he changed,
time changed him like a season
changing the colors of the leaves
trees adding more rings
snakes molting
men shedding off old skins and growing more hairs
change is the law of everything and everybody
he used to but soon he didn't like it
people do not really mind
they come back to habits that do not die
to sins like sweet chocolates
they begin to love every guilt
they do not believe the penalties handed from the skies
they just live and love and go where the merry makings are
he sees them counting their moneys
the only one that talks now
now he talks to himself and leaves and starts to travel
the long and winding road
away from them all
since then he has waived his right to speak
because it arrives at nothing just the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem