WHO GOES THERE?-FRIENDSHIP POEMS
Who goes there?
Rude, hungry, mystical, naked … who is that?
Is it not strange that I take my strength from the flesh of the ox?
But what is man really?
What are you?
As I point like mine,
you must identify it as yours you,
because if you do not waste time listening to my words.
As time goes empty and the earth is nothing but mud and
I can not stop to mourn me.
The moans and the prayers of the invalids are marinated with dust;
And conformity for distant relatives.
I do not submit.
In and out of my house I wear my hat as much as I want.
Why should I pray?
Why should I bow and plead?
After peering into the strata,
after consulting the wise,
to analyze and define
and calculate carefully,
I have seen the best of me is grabbed my bones.
I am strong and healthy.
Through me all things of the universe flow unceasingly.
Everything has been written for me.
And I have to decipher the hidden meaning of the scriptures.
I know I write the orbit can not be measured with the beat of a
and that will not disappear as the circle of fire that draws a child in the
night with a live coal.
I am sacred.
And I do not torture my spirit to defend myself or to understand me.
The elementary laws do not ask for forgiveness.
(And, after all, I’m no more proud that the foundation from
which my house stands.)
Just as I am. Look at me!
This is enough.
If nobody sees me, I do not care,
and if everyone sees me, I do not does not matter.
A world sees me,
the greatest of all worlds: I.
If I get to my destination now,
I will accept with joy,
and if I do not arrive until the end of ten million centuries, wait …
I will wait happily too.
My foot is embedded and rooted in granite
and I laugh at what you call dissolution
because I know the amplitude of time.