The Struggle
I have struggled for decades not to sink into
the morass of years, had been holding on to
a branch of the tree of learning, but when
asleep I lost the grip and now see the underside
of its leaves, they are pale and tells me that
learning gives yarning and ambitions for
a wider horizon, but without education, a title
that tells us who we are, we will continue work
as garage hands, or peel potatoes in a café.
It’s easy to let go slip into old age, to forget
and to be forgotten by the world
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem