No way to avoid it, no way
Man get closer to his grave each day.
Life & days like pages of a book.
Day after day,
Night after night.
Trying to catch up what! ?
Is it the last day?
Last page,
Where man sleeps his last sleep on this earth,
And read totally new thing.
May be he is simply too comfortable on the ground.
Now, seemed a thing that could not feel!
Nor could see the moon up there.
Maps of poets graves down there,
And other graves.
Waves after waves
Days after days
On earth.
I saw graves making a nice flowered green grove
On a grave spot a big stone
I tell you what I read
Elizabeth Bishop 1911-1979
That's all!
And some words..
All I want to say
She was fresh as a rose in June
I am not afraid to say I had an afraid feeling.
Days like doors
From door to door
Nobody is sure
When and where shall be the last door?
I should not be arrogant anymore
I should not go fast
Let it be slide
I will be dust few days or more
Dust in grave for sure
Will the wind carry it here or there?
I do not care.
The past is now a memory.
Future is unknown.
It is clear,
I am fine here.
I have a sage
Regardless of the unknown number of the last page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem