How many barriers must we cross
for awareness of our Home a future day?
Probably not before old age: back curved,
hair grey, skin spotted.
Maybe not even before evening, twilight -
under the veranda, wind flowing, raindrops beating
on the tired wall. And the rain that pelts
from afar, on the naked aged body.
What good are words to justify
or validate this game of existence?
They are there because you only
speak to yourself, to no one else.
The momentary situation is misconception.
A mournful poet writes no more, except poems.
Impossible to interpret scenes from life.
Returning Home: a temptation to reach the Other Shore.
How many frontiers must we cross,
how many separations must we endure to return?
The heart's path is long and hallucinations abound;
the mind's path even more daunting. And the soul's
path is like a forest of indigo plants -
tangled, confused, unrecognizable.
As soon as we've left it, we return to the same place.
Whatever we do, we can never return. [...]
Chi Trung
📲 Continua su 23Pugnalate (pag. 10) ➡️ https://www.lelzeviro.it/2019/03/15/23pugnalate/
STAI LEGGENDO
23Pugnalate
Poetry23Pugnalate è il titolo del nostro ultimo numero. Con le punte affilate delle penne, in una piazza piena zeppa di gente, ciascun autore con un colpo diretto ha pugnalato i demoni della società contemporanea: l'indifferenza dell'uomo verso la conosce...
