Liberation
A soft rain is falling.
For days now.
Casting a spell
as in melancholy reflection I dwell.
The terrain of aware provides a bitter clue
to those renewed assumptions
relinquishing their vision of autonomy
earlier awakened by the noblest among us
- as in every age-
finding it more burdensome
than romantic idealism can sustain.
And by this choice forego the victory
refusing to bow can confer.
June 29,1994
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem