We like to see our lives as a whole
Coming to resolution - seeing the point -
Everything having progressed gradually
Despite the inevitable trials and set-backs.
What though if our lives are atoms of experience
Composing bits and parts and aggregates
That stand largely for themselves for a time
Such that there is no narrative or story?
The sequences and trajectories that we see
Being simply in the mind's eye, as comforters,
Allowing us the illusion of heroic singularity -
The intimation of progression and redemption.
......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem