I gather that when sadness strikes,
I’m simply not determined enough to be happy…
I do not deny animals their curiosity but it would be interesting to know if they ask WHY?, if when they communicate they wonder and ponder. This WHY? wondering is, in my imagination, the privilege of human beings. I guess my entire theory would be instantly deconstructed if we were to learn that cats wonder why it is a rainy day or if lions ask why leaves fall off of trees every now and then. Is it a question I honestly wish to know the answer to?! Perhaps I am safer in my superiority bubble such as I see it – let’s maintain status quo!
If a novel takes three years out of a writer’s lifetime until it is completed, why should its translation take less?
I wonder if poets feel the need to define poetry.
I wonder if they wish to attach a definition to what they hear in their hearts when they read and compose in verse. Most of them come up with a definition throughout their life, but I’d like to know if that if because they are asked for it (by the public, the readers, reporters, etc.) or because they are compelled by some inner force to look for one.
Is this a thought?
A summon word?
A key to a door?
A comforting pat?
It is whatever we need it to be when we spin the “friend” in the merry-go-round of our mind.
It may never be there, but it is always in the quests of our lives.
That self-sufficient feeling of loving and being loved which silences all the torments of the soul, all the questions of the mind. Exquisite well-being.