There is no poem I can write
That can deal with the threats
To our very existence-
There is no poem I can write
That can imagine the horrors
We might go through-
Nothing I say and nothing I know
Can prepare
For the evils that might come-
We live on the edge of an ‘abyss’
For which ‘abyss’ is a tame word
And we get by each day
By ignoring the ‘hells’ that might come to us-
Evils worse than death may await us
And nothing I say or write
Can contend with this-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem