How many people I around have seen,
And in an instant interest falls ahead,
As is the pages of a book unread,
Or a premiere on stage or on a screen;
But then this interest lies half way between:
The grasp and grope, but both at last'll be shed,
When light prevails, oh darkness will instead;
Or dwelling I'll in both for good have been!
I long to each and every one of them
Yet know; but oh, all always goes to waste
'Cause curiosity's with phlegm replaced; —
Although I'd like to think are different we—
I do completely, why, what's next condemn:
Alas! I'd rather but we strangers be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem