RESIGNATION
We live on the road toward death,
from afar I have watched how we die,
strangers and loved ones who leave us behind.
That sorrow brought by the deaths of others,
that sadness that makes water and salt fall,
deaths of others, which are sorrows.
Resignation along the long road,
while I wait for my own,
without sorrow, without fear,
acceptance.
On the road,
tears for those who leave,
on my road, resignation for the end of my path.
There are lives we pass through without mattering to anyone,
and when we are gone, only air drifting over the living.
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RESIGNACIÓN
Vivimos en el camino a la muerte,
desde lejos he visto cómo morimos,
extraños y propios que nos abandonan.
Esa pena que me produce las muertes ajenas,
esa tristeza que hace derramar agua y sal,
muertes de los otros, que son penas.
Resignación en el largo camino,
mientras espero la propia,
sin penas ni miedos,
aceptación.
En el camino,
lágrimas por los que se van,
en mi camino resignación del fin de mi camino.
Hay vidas que pasamos sin que a nadie le importemos,
cuando nos vayamos, solo aire que sobrevuela a los vivos.
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Author:
Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS (
Offline) - Published: April 16th, 2026 19:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Truth harsh but real and the recognition that we are not much to be remembered. Very powerful and most refreshing to hear. A fave
In my case, what’s the point of being remembered if all the people who loved me are gone? In the end, it’s all just vanity.
Supposedly I’m meant to achieve some kind of immortality for something, but once I’m dead I won’t care — no one important loves me anymore, I’m nobody to anyone…
Happy days in which we can enjoy the sun and all the good things that life leaves for us along our daily path.
That is certainly one point of view that I can not argue with. Some would say that pride flows down the family line but what glory is there in another's accomplishment? I do marvel at the accomplishments of others nonrelated.
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