we are but mere paths
where their shoes tread upon us
their umbrella tips their staff
they all touch our surfaces
during the rain
the waters run the drain
and we become not just the paths
of their stamping and running feet
we become their canals
we move through histories of men
we are their paths and their canals
we let their blood flow through us
we remain faithful to this tasks
taking glimpses of the face of God
we face the heavens
we believe in the falling of the stars
we are but paths
all histories of men's feet walk upon us
we are but the grasses
we bury their carcasses
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem