Little Ending Poem by Charles Wright
Little Ending
Bowls will receive us,
and sprinkle black scratch in our eyes.
Later, at the great fork on the untouchable road,
It won't matter where we have become.
Unburdened by prayer, unburdened by any supplication,
Someone will take our hand,
someone will give us refuge,
Circling left or circling right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:23:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
