Could you imagine a worst end
Than slumping on a slope
Alone, coated with snow,
Just you and the moon
And boots saluting the night,
Fading into a stupor
As some frozen drool
On a mountain's frothed mouth?
Or perhaps
Adrift over the ocean depths
Wave crests surging your boat's bow
As salt poison floods the hull
Moving you down low into a lost void
Around as a dead fish in a toilet.
Is the end when you know it?
Or is it until truth stabs you?
Could it leave a broad, measureless wound
And a pulseless heart of dull ache?
Truly, the worst end never comes too soon.
It is life alone knowing,
No one has ever loved you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem