Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat,
only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of this our
pilgrimage to no country and to no end.
In that shoreless ocean,
at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies,
free as waves, free from all bondage of words.
Is the time not come yet?
Are there works still to do?
Lo, the evening has come down upon the shore
and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests.
Who knows when the chains will be off,
and the boat, like the last glimmer of sunset,
vanish into the night?
Every day we get up to sail away and by the time we are almost done the night appears and we take rest to restart the journey that never ends. It only ends with our last day on the earth. A great philosophical poem.
A successful fantasy poem. Nothing needs to actually 'happen' in the real world: only in his imagination, which is vivid and questioning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is life and death