one must pause to think
in between one's rounds and routine
the promise of delight, the reality of pain;
how far one has walked, one has wandered
how life has led one to where one rests
and what must lie ahead
one must pause to think
if there is hope,
if there is a light in the sky's distance
that hints of quiet;
to see again all that has passed
all that transpired
of one's will, and many unwanted
one hopes it will be better
as one has always dreamt
though time has weakened one's will
and the vision is indistinct
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem