I had so many poems in me
They did not know where to begin-
Worlds of people I had loved
Faces and lives
Stories no one could tell-
And I wrote so little of them
I was true to such a small part of it -
Life is so so great
And with our hands our eyes our hearts our mind
We grasp so small a part of it -
I could not be true
To all I had seen and known and loved
All I could do
Was less
Than even
A child with his eyes wide open
Could dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem