To talk of the human condition
is to talk of a tear through the heart.
That too is a symbol to match the lance thrust
or the words of a poem plunged.
Is the heart's core also a symbol
that hears the dove's down stroke
though no words, no feel, no sight
tells the life-swift touch that binds?
No, no.There are worlds within words
where beats the heart and wings of the dove
through the spirit-proof walls of my heart.
But where I follow - only the symbols are.
The human condition cuts off
where the symbols plunge through the heart.
Symbols tear old wounds for new joins
and lose themselves
stitching flesh to spirit until
they mend to the heart - dove's wings,
God knoweth how.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem