Witnessing a fresco
in the chapel of my mind -
I could not rest.
My past -
emblazoned on the walls,
of this my secret hermitage -
I wept.
All colours had gone,
and only words hung there,
empty and cold.
Quietly in the night
I saw eternity decay
and knew
my life must change.
I awoke -
you arrived -
my transient future.
[1968]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wickedly succinct and something we all have to deal with Malcolm. A universal appeal to our future incentive of life poem. Thanks for the hope. Smiling and welcome to PH, Tai