Paris
As I grow older
the more faith
I seem to lose,
the more I need to see,
the less I seem to learn.
Wandering through
Montmartre
alone,
Pere Lachaise
the rain falling
empty,
though harmony.
Gazing at the paintings
the Louvre
a child staring
at biblical images
thinks nothing,
finds truth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem