an up climb of a hill
you're no stranger to this kind of height
you have been there where you hold on to rocks and roots
and cling and grip and say
i want to live for another day
and this hill is my stairway
to heaven you tell yourself over and over again
you touch the clouds, white like the icing of the cake
you lick the fog and caress the passing wind with your palms
you keep the lines of your destiny intact
the cliffs never change somehow
many have died and soon you shall be
next.
up there at the top you shall find yourself
triumphant
lonelier perhaps and colder and so quiet
console yourself to all these blunders
you are nearer to God and that is nice enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem