This burden that I inherited from my life,
A life in which nothing has ever stayed,
I shall carry along the pathways of mortal existence
And “I shall live by forgetting myself”,
Dancing endlessly to the tunes of that divine flute;
That with its spirited music weaves and unweaves all that exists.
There won’t remain the flute, or its life-weaving music. For they never exist.
But He shall remain in all that remains and not remains.
How many times have I assigned myself the tasks, never to complete them?
I was always like that, unpredictable, like the summer storm,
which though in its reserve carry the fury, unleash only humble dreams.
There you can see scattered around my room my curiosities
(some half-read, some not touched even),
anxiously waiting to be given their due.
But I have always disliked formalities.
When was the last time I completed a task? I don’t remember one.
How tasks should be completed. Only in their doing are they complete.
Last evening Rilke, Borges and something passed my eyes.
I embraced them with serene courtesy. They shared my anxieties. I felt like living.
Just now when I recall that meeting, life weighs heavy on me.
Because I have once again assigned a difficult task for my self;
And I know “I shall live by forgetting myself”.