whatever happened to him
could happen to you and
i do not the least doubt
how time behaves when you
both are gone into a kind
reclusive experimentation.
in this field one must
realize the real purpose.
it is not to please them
but really to only please
ourselves in this wordy
undertaking. Do not expect
hands to clap to your liking.
we are never entertainers.
we are seekers of who we are.
we are taking off from the
busy hours of our questioning.
we are under the trees silenced
by silence itself and no other.
we are gazers never actors.
we only tell about what we see.
if there are additions, which
by our own sound discretion are
added in another stanza, it is
what we cannot restrain because
we really feel it.
after all these, we receive no
payment. We pay the price of our
choice. We are doing what we want.
and then we leave, wordlessly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem