Here is a long and silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
trampling the silent stones and the dry leaves.
Someone behind me also tramples, stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs I turn : nobody.
Everything dark and doorless,
only my steps aware of me,
I turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me : nobody.
hrd thrh ft hrtf hrhgfsd kllkdfsfhgekAJBRGRDBVERQGEGFEYRBVXFBVDABFLVFDZLJHVBVLXCZHJBVOE RA FDSAB DFLVAEV UDFLG H.DZNCS; Nav flvlX fgsdlgh zdflgysv zdlfg ejrsg ldgnflzdfugse hsdfiug siuog
What a twisting and turning frightening tale of a man haunted by himself. Reading master poets like this puts us in our place and leave us nothing to do but strive harder to paint our scenery and paint our story
Everything dark and doorless, only my steps aware of me, I turning and turning among these corners which lead forever to the street. a very fine poem. tony
thanks for this great poem, I have translated into Arabic and Kurdish, it is one of my favorite poem, well done for this submission and translation..
The reader is slowly drawn hesitatingly into this piece by the dark and uncertain mood. What are we observing here, in this late hour, upon this lonely street? Our understanding unfolds even as the subject's understanding unfolds. We finally realize we are watching a desperate man being chased by, and chasing after: himself. Truly a striking work of art utilizing mood, imagery, incisive vocabulary to impart a compelling and dramatic message.