No one calls me by name, anymore
The postman, yes, but that's official
(I get hardly any mail these days)
My parents, playmates, close colleagues,
I've survived them all - -
Standing on this 80-plus dizzy peak
Is not a feat I'm proud of
Does the summiteer know
The vanity of conquest?
Or if he knows
Does he admit it?
I am afraid
I'll forget my name, soon
If no one uses it
I might even think
It is someone else they're calling
(That is, as long as I can hear)
Just to avert that possibility, (keep this confidential)
I look at the mirror, every morning
Greet myself, loudly
'Hello, Ambi, how are you! '
'I'm fine, thank you! '
I smile and nod at my hang-dog image
I tell him
'Be a companion unto yourself! '
However, I would rather, someone else
Came calling my name, soon
'Ambi, your time is up.! '
Would I not go bounding
Like a dog to his master?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem