I am like a flag in the center of open space.
I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and must live
while the things of the world still do not move:
the doors still close softly, and the chimneys are full
the windows do not rattle yet, and the dust still lies down.
I already know the storm, and I am troubled as the sea.
I leap out, and fall back,
and throw myself out, and am absolutely alone
in the great storm.
Translated by Robert Bly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem