For thirty years You have not spoken to me;
I heard the dull hollow echo of silence
as though a communion between us.
For thirty years You would not open to me;
You remained closed, hard and tense,
like a clenched fist.
For thirty years You have not broken me
with Your alien ways and Your distance.
Like a child dismissed,
I have watched You prey upon the hope in me,
knowing "mercy" is chance
and "heaven"—a list.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For thirty years You would not open to me; You remained closed, hard and tense, like a clenched fist. very nice poem with loftiness. tony