The churches are filled with the
living and the dead,
conversing,
but no one hears…
“Let the dead bury their dead, ” echoes
the sermonizer
a thousand times a thousand
the words echo.
Could he be among the dead?
If you ask,
he will not hear.
He cannot see for the
light of this world
turns his soul “blood red”,
congregations “fall to earth”.
the Word has been heard
around the world,
but the word is covered
in fog,
and the dead are no more afraid
than the living…
Until they go home
Alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem