Inside the image that lay.
It was a straightforward photo, I saw,
The fair substance of a youthful fellow:
Then, at that point, I felt a feeling of stunningness:
Pity mixing with my euphoria!
I was right here, at 23
The smooth 셔츠룸 picture, a young fellow
With delicate and wavy coppery hair
New youthful muscles, jawline and forehead!
Clear and basic were things,
That my internal soul developed;
The white shroud of straightforwardness:
Maybe some other time.
Presently, an elderly person at 64
With grabbing eyes, shady brain
That restricted room of youth dispossessed:
Brilliant magnificence currently disappeared!
As though enveloping in one evening:
Wild and dim and brilliant dreams,
Maturing inside that old photo:
We procure as we have planted!
Accordingly, the spirit presently endlessly pauses
For the day he’ll disappear
However the image actually remains:
Some time ago, he was 23.
Haiku for Iceland
In 1999, the ninth of
September, at 9:00 a.m.! I was flying
to Iceland, that is:
9-9-1999 at 9:00 a.m.!
The Drinking Room
Here men are patched
It dwells in a straightforward kitchen,
Level green walls, with a white sky
What’s more, a light emission, for the sun
(put in the focal point of the roof)!
Here you can turn into a cured stone.
The stones of the psyche, quiet…
The heart stone calm, moved by
Just to take care of the mouth-opening with
channeled in liquor.
Here individuals of the local beverage
Such in vim’s of haziness
Wipe kissing the phallic glass
jugs of brew.
One stone eye closes, leaving the
Other to observe similarity:
Many days after day…
A current foments the wires in your mind
Volts upon volts energizing the middle!
This is the drinking room,
That snares the hands and brains of
the dead, or passing on?
Love is in the thirst and revile, the tingle!
What’s more, we as a whole get naturally suspecting:
“I’ll quit drinking!
I’ll be all around great…
Be that as it may, few at any point do,
They simply change rooms.
Note: it took me 22 years until I quit drinking; I recently continued to change rooms, presently I have thirty years of restraint.
There are remains on the moon, I bet:
left over from the people of yore!
There are remains on Earth, moving
in the breeze, I’ve seen this.
There are remains on Mars, red like
-lethargic fire…here and there
All over: I’ve seen photos!
There are remains on Mercury, hot
furthermore, burnt…there must be (?)
Sometime in the future, on the off chance that you investigate my
casket, you’ll find remains as well!
Cinders have a long history with
humanity, individuals, the universe.
The sun, one day will detonate,
be sucked into nothingness;
Or on the other hand maybe a dark opening
Leaving just cinders and dead gases!
Then, at that point, what?
We’ll all begin once more, from Ashes?