If I cannot dispose of my sins, let me drown in them;
I’m so sick of hanging, in between, by this flimsy thread,
since that morning hour when the voice of my conscience was born!
The end is nigh, from the flexure of my sun I can tell,
how I wish that I had the strength to let it go and fall
but a silhouette of salvation, a vain hope, keeps me drained!
When the night falls, wrapped in the misty haze, should I be sad?
Life that has come to earth must, in due time, depart as well
and report back to the universe, where nothing, so far
since the beginning of time, save mere forms, has ever changed.
So even in the darkness of the night, I shall remain
in a different form, in your remembrance and your dreams
or as a barren mound of earth perhaps, all forgotten…
If I cannot dispose of my sins, let me drown in them!
Poems 