as time concludes its mission
directed as it were by gods
or physics
or gods of physics
the earth grows colder
the sun has dimmed
the planets fling outward
in lost orbits
the last poet sits
beneath an existential tree
and pens a final song
a hymn to the universe
he reflects on humanity
on good and evil
all life's pain and joy
and on the silence of death
he writes of tears and peace
of deserts and of sunset
he prays for cosmic spring
his hope is not yet done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem