The Traveller Poem by Geoffrey Fafard
The Traveller
I lost some paper money today
On a crazy market fall
But instead of crying I smile and laugh
Who knows it may come back again
Unlike this beautiful journey
About to end
So I sit and grin on this noisy street
Here in Hong kong
Alone but caught in a people jam
And no one cares about my losses
Least of all the old lady selling me fruit
And any other thing she can
Or the old man with the twisted
Hurting fingers
Roasting nuts on his 'just only' stove
Or the slinky rat scurrying down the drain
They want to know what land I am from
All serious till I smile
Oh I am travelling way over there
I point….
And I have come from way over there
I point….
Then they grin at me
And point….
Ah! You wan big travelling man.
The old lady smiles and rests her hand on my arm
The old man with old hands
Shovels into my cup
some extra nuts
I have lost nothing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 2:25:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I love this on so many levels and for so many reasons... I'd never been to Hong Kong until today; where you are from and where you are going to; the old woman and the old man; the reality of the whole poem; and oh, so very especially the double-reality in that last punchline!