The mystic's life contains
all the countless little
concerns that are part
and parcel of daily
human existence.
Mystic recalls frequently
the thinking on death.
Death has much
to do with recognizing
each thing for what
it is and acknowledging
that no object, no experience,
no achievement can
sustain him in existence,
and, therefore, to be
authentic he must struggle
to be true to his chief
responsibility of searching
for a life that bears inspection
in the face of death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem