Has it ever happened
That a man, upon walking
All the way around the world,
Returns to the horizon he began with
To find that the clouds rolling over
The golden bay are so thick and
Flat that they appear to be
A new horizon floating
Entirely in the sky,
And so, sticking to
The promise he made
Seventy-two years ago,
Slowly kneels down to tie
His worn torn shoes, checks
His watch to find that time is
Relentlessly ticking away,
Takes a breath of life,
And marches on?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem