We are also a repository, a carrier
Of other substances
Generated by the mechanics of these bodies,
Until we leave them behind
And feel an odd relief then,
Separating ourselves from them without regret,
As just another requirement
Resulting from breathing and ingesting.
But we are much more the carriers
Of a million minute cellular minds,
Whose infinitesimal bodies form the environs
Of our entire body, inside and outside,
And carry out the most invisible of survival functions
All but unconsciously, to our busy minds;
As even I myself, must carry out their deeply hidden interests-
Though they remain the most esoteric of mysteries of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem