Occluded by dust,
And well traveled orbits
Beyond the known space-
What rankles after midnight
Each being labors alone;
Coming and going a lonely way
The ending of life like a faint surprise
And even less interruption,
To others-
Back to the bingo, the pool halls,
Lottery tickets, and soccer games,
Finish the beer, the haircut, the lovemaking,
Death's another ritual, we must partake.
Mechanically we remove the blood,
Paint the face, bedeck with flowers.
Lower the body, down into wood:
(The small interruption does us good) -
But hallelujah- it's not our time, yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem