we seek refuge from chaos
but chaos is our mother
in the gray cloud wind stirs
seabirds spin and cry
we may wish it otherwise
still there is no song here
no song but the push of air
dumb and blind as reflex
the flag streams in a rush
then sags into exhaustion
the tree is a sturdy cross
where we hang our honor
there is no silence on earth
but wind and tree and bird
do not yield a single word
the whistle of wind no tune
arrogance might weep at this
and claim we are abandoned
yet we are part of a universe
and it will never leave us
humility requires we shelter
shelter in the word of chaos
and make our song ring forth
in symphonies of life and dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem