it was never me
there is never a part of me that was there
you have misinterpreted the truth about those characters of the novel,
the words in that poem
the metaphors are outdated
refer to another reality,
the reality that i have carried upon my shoulders
i am the horse, not that horseman,
i am not the star, i am just the asteroid at the background
i am the silence between your sighs,
do not read my silence,
you will find a word that cannot stand for me,
i am not even that tail of that great meteor that comes to your life
once in a century
it is not me that you see in those flowing words,
they are those pieces of undecided driftwood that i pick from the great flood
those dry falling leaves that land on my forehead
from the great tree of life
do you really have to find pieces of myself in those lines to make
the write-up interesting to you?
i am so sorry
call me a liar, but that is the truth
there is truth in empathy
there is truth in putting our feet in some other people's shoes
that is what literature is all about
read some more and be discouraged
fathom and then
be enlightened about the sufferings of others
their miseries that soon shall provide you company
when you sit upon a chair with a smoke in your left hand
and a margarita (or black coffee) on your right
upon an empty table
facing the sea
witnessing the beautiful fading
on another sunset
in your life
do not wish that i shall be there
oh, i have long been gone into another island
do not attempt to find me
i am not there anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem