The eyes are closed in death.
Hollow men are blind.
So there are never tears,
there is never care,
no reason for despair.
I cease to see the sunset.
Must I also then forget
all sensation and regret?
And will I know you there,
or is it like we never met?
Is there no poetry,
never more to comfort me,
a metronome's infinity?
Does silence recompense
serenity without pretense?
Is there finally peace,
will war and hatred cease,
will blindness find release?
Beyond my final breath,
my eyes are closed in death.
So sensitive.Plato wrote philosophy is a the study of death.In your poems I felt it.He was right.
I may be a bit preoccupied with the death topic Thanks for the read and the reaction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Never will we know. I am Hoping it is a glorious paradise. Thank you. Enjoyed
Glad you liked it. I am hoping too.