Your largess is large as the Indian Ocean,
but your famous generosity stops with yourself.
You peer into your filmy-dark waters,
in depths only you can access,
and behold there only the stony matter
clinging to the crystals, not the rubies and the gold.
You see the dross not the silver, the leaves
but not the refreshing tea;
Your repect for all others is renowned,
but in yourself you see only the unforgivable
and thus the unforgiven. Have pity.
The legions of unkindnesses, the black thoughts,
the hurtful things you’ve done—all are from
a heart that is human.
Here is all the love we possess:
take it—apply it like balm
on your suffering so profound
that only you can know it.
Who would have thought sometimes
the hardest one to love is ourself.
a superb tribute to a friend who seems to be worthy of the name. Take care. Warmest regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful write, my friend and a great statement of truth, especially the last two lines. Thank you and best regards Richard