On a day like any other day
when all the instruments agreed
I watched a spear of flame
ascend till the fire
was as small as a star
and was extinguished
and the tug with earth was broken,
and as I gazed upwards I wondered:
will man who journeys so far
above us into solitude and darkness
find out who we are? hear a heavenly
choir? sing to the music of spheres?
see the faces of God?
or will he who journeys so far
return knowing just this:
in us there are journeys more desolate
still, uncertain, endlessly far:
where there is no one in wonderment
watching the sky as the flame
of the world grows small
as a star that shone
once in the glare of the dark:
as the tug of the world is broken,
will he who must journey so far
in himself journey on,
when even starlight is gone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem