Asking me
To look for an old rusted pin,
Buried beneath the sand
Of a desolate desert
In the glowering heat of the sun
Away from shade
Is a tall order, also
Purposeless and risky.
What would I gain
By retrieving a thrown-away?
It will not remind me,
Of any failure of mine,
Handling it could be painful,
It can be or not be a seed of a myth,
Or a mere denial of facts;
Surely it cannot be the nectar,
To quench my thirst
Or add to my knowledge of the world.
What would it be no one knows.
Why should I be punished by the Sun?
Why must I suffer?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem