my father died
as he lived:
in ever-present absence
when i was six
he walked out of the late
night house as surreptitiously as a suicide
going for a swim in the sea
one of three memories
at the age of four: a kite
we made together then
that soared so fiercely
till it hit the full
force of the wind
and nosedived into a ditch
how inconsolable i was!
far more so
than when, thirty
years later, I heard
the news from a distant relative of his
(that he had died)
ten years after his death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem