I remember scenes as if from some old movie,
Voices calling, as though across a void;
Things forgotten, through the glass most darkly-
As though some giant, with my brain had toyed.
The past lives on in places now quite hidden;
The dying man, whose life through his mind whirled-
Those days come back to haunt, mostly unbidden:
My parts of them, still living in this world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem