Now that I am no longer present
what do they say of me there
within that small group within which I was known?
I can see the portly
happy man
pointing to his head and saying
He knew a lot of things.
Do they speak of me as a nice chap
easy to talk to, mild and not offensive?
(Oh, they would I'm sure.)
Awkward and shy he was,
says another. And then perhaps it crosses
their minds that they speak of me
as if they were speaking of the dead.
He's still alive,
perhaps someone mentions
and there is subdued laughter.
(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice, thought provoking....... i hope they miss us