I know the pain of those who passed.
I know the pain of those who last.
I know the cliff where people fall.
I know it well;
but I don't know it all.
I don't know if it's better this way.
I don't know the genre of this divine play.
I don't know if we get a second chance.
But I continue to love,
and I continue to last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, the irony of those two opening lines - which ever path you choose there will be pain; but wait, if the consequences are the same, the choice is not about what comes next in our lives - it's about the quality of the choice, the moral issue of choosing, not what we get from it. At the end of his life my Whitman wrote, THESE THINGS I SEE SUDDENLY WHAT THEY MEAN... THE END I KNOW NOT, IT IS ALL IN THEE. His theism reflects Oedipus at Colonus as well which I re-read last week. Your poem is transparent and whole.