when alive Marcel Marceau
gave the world
every dropp of his life
in his fluid art
and the world was in his debt;
when he dies, the world puts Marceau in debt
and the tax office comes in, the creditors come in
the banks come in and hold an auction
and sell off cheap each mask and hat and item
that should have gone into a Marceau Mime Home:
but the world is content
only when its debts are paid
the rest is silence
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem