I ALWAYS LOOKED UPON THEM/WITH PITY AND CONTEMPT
I always looked upon them
With Pity and Contempt
And a sure sense of Distance
The bench- sitters of the morning
The retired forever from the working world
I sit on my Jerusalem bench
A cool and pleasant autumn day
My morning coffee with me
I can try with all my soul to deny it
But I am one of them now
An old man looking through miles of empty time
At the trees the leaves the sky
The busses the cars
The endless life
That moves so indifferently by me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem