the curtain
the night will not last forever
the greatest gamble
unfolds with the onset of silence
but hold no fear
whatever waits
waits regardless
how we feel is interesting now
but then totally irrelevant
the bands only play
for those seeking comfort
for themselves
the gun in the air salutes the living
the mute wail of the trumpet
mixing with the scent of orchids and lilies
won't matter and will smell like dirt
copper and the taste of memory
the truth behind sunrise and sunset
will make not the slightest difference
struggle will find no place
the idea of win and loss is a battle illusion
which fails at the door
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem