Dear Graduates,
... Sometimes, a spring breeze softly blowing
whispers that a presence needn't be seen to be felt...
... And sometimes, the people piling onto the benches
of packed bleachers sense that a sacred space
is simultaneously filling...
... And often, clustered families gleefully
crane to glimpse their cap-and-gown-clad graduate,
but once the band pipes up
and you triumphantly take the field,
you'll know... you're in perfect view
of missed and remembered mentors rejoicing
up, up, up so high, so very high... in stadium seating...
And usually, principals and presidents will proceed
to spawn perfunctory speeches... politely received...
by the assemblage patiently waiting...
... But always, always, count on this classic climax
creating an incredible crescendo:
Thunderous applause will
rumble through the bleachers,
rambling onto the field, and
rocket through the air,
rolling onto the heavens
as a sprinkling of caps rains
up, up, up so high, so very high
and... for a slice of a second...
before starting to tumble,
mortarboards are a sea of confetti
tipping their corners in displays of gratitude...
to the angels smiling upon you... from
up, up, up so high, so very high... in stadium seating!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem