there are so many things
already that i have forgotten
of which i may remember but always with
regret
i could have been something else other
than a hammer to a nail
i always dream of wings of a hawk
claws of an eagle i still detest
i could have been a cloud, soft and blue and
drifting
all over the world
watching glaciers break and fall and turn into a flood
or water
i could have gone back to where i was once a child
and do swimming in the river with my naked innocent friends
where we do not plan for the day
about what to eat and where to work next and next and next
i could have been so irresponsible and innocent and weak
and die without regret
young and will always be mourned and remembered and then
well oh well just like everything and everyone
being let go and simply be forgotten.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem