'And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.'
- T.S. Eliot
you have gone that far to the edge of that cliff
where you now stand
to explore all the possibilities of touching a cloud
and now that you are touching
this cotton dream
you are feeling nothing at all
you look down
below your feet to that village near the equator
that you left years ago
and you think finally that everything amounts to nothing
except that pink cotton candy
that you once tasted
as the best metaphor
for your dream-cloud
your cotton dream
so sweet to your teeth
come to think of it
it is never too late to build this bridge
rather than jump
and die in that muddy river
just below the cliff
where you are now
still standing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem