Plan
My plan is simple
Fill the tank go away
First drive on highway
Then whirl to gravel…
And drive
And drive
And drive
Somewhere there will come end
Of fuel or the way, to stop!
And remain
And remain
And remain
I kill phone, Internet
No contact whatever
Not at all except for
The guest that I expect
And will come
Silently
Silent death
Then somehow
And maybe after years
Questions come streamed:
'Who is he?
Where from? '
'Did he die?
Was he killed? '
And my room will be searched
Betray me papers and computer:
'Bye friends…think of me! '
And a note on the side:
'To schools and archives
Dedicate my books, works, belonging.'
So bye, bye, bye and bye
If the time never comes for goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem