I wanted to be a poet
when I was young
so my father handed me a blue hat,
telling me to go find a house just for myself.
Years later
I found my home on a lonely isle,
where my sole companions were
a large-eyed deer
and a lighthouse –
its tower white, its peak red -
barely big enough for me and my blue hat.
When fog rises,
all things and souls are lost in mist
in my watch-room I’ll stand, wearing my blue hat;
I’ll turn on all my lights
and wave my hat
and be seen by the whole world.
Old I will grow in my lighthouse,
happy I will be in my lighthouse.
I’ll feed the large-eyed deer,
I’ll care for my blue hat.
If one day
the light is extinguished in my tower,
please do not be sad or
come seeking me -
it is likely
I’m off to another lighthouse
with my blue hat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem