i grow old and weary weak and dim
dull and vulgar: so
when will i see you again?
it's well past time now-
there's no time-
don't delay.
your country cries out for you:
when will it see you again?
one last stunning show
before you finally go
when will we see you again?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am sure, while you were in India, you must have been to his temple! He is supposed to be a miracle man! I don't know much about him. A great tribute to a great 'guru'!
Many colleagues were rich Indian ladies, devotees of Sai Baba of Puttaparthi, who traveled there regularly to see him. So, they invited me to go with them. Of course I said no. Like you, I had a family to raise. Better to go thru life with 2 feet on the ground than 1 head in the clouds, eh!
Thank you Valsa for visiting the dark side of PH! I've never been to India. If I had I would not be living on this big sheet of ice and bush, Ca Nada (ie. Here is Nothing) , but you raise an interesting story. I taught at a little business college in Hong Kong for a few years in the late 1980s.