Which of my yearnings,
which of my urges
did you leave to me,
old man?
Which of these ghosts
that inhabit my history
did you leave behind as a legacy?
Why were you such a quiet man,
storing and hording your words
your thoughts
and never sharing?
I used to be afraid of you
when I was a small boy,
then fear gave way to curiosity.
You were always a mystery.
Even today I remain unsure,
and your lips sealed forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nothing is happening for no reason and in this case most probably this way it is. Beautiful, reflective poem. I am afraid but... is winning the curiosity... it is so real. Very much I like your writing but this poem peculiarly. In the free time I will be coming back to your poetry. I thank :) - 10 v. real :) Maria Barbara Korynt