actually
he did not choose to be here
he was told
he was thrown here
when he was a baby
when he had no sense at
all
about time and place
and people
just like everyone here
with a mind of their own
as they grow older
they begin to entertain questions
handed to them
by grief
and confusion
it was confusion
that made them think
it was grief that
ask them what happiness
is and how
illusive it seems
time gives them
those philosophical robes
that remain wet
with rain
someone who has outlived
all these quibbling
closed his mouth
and took the journey
with all calm
it is the silence that
after all
give them wisdom
it is the peace within
that pacified their storms
then they claim they
understand that they are not supposed
to be gnats
in the world of carcasses
that they should walk peacefully
and look at the stars
at night when they take their
temporary rests
on this still long
journey
into that longing about what once
was there
but they cannot
completely remember
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem