Trying to translate one of the lesser
poems of Dylan Thomas - yet obscure
enough - I think how in my long lost
youth he seemed to have lived a long,
full life. 39, a grand old age to die
and, perhaps, a bit too late. So my
mid-teen self, reasoned. Hadn't
my namesake Radiguet died at 20,
yet left his mark? And Bashõ wrote
how now one shouldn't live past 40.
But Bashõ lived to be 50, and now
that doesn't seem that much, Old
age keeps receding, Radiguet
a child, and Thomas, puffed up
poor Thomas, a young man
in his best age. That's what
living past 40 does to you.
26.09.2023
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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