Whoever Brought Me Here

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
 
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.

When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober.
 Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.

The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
 
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? 
I cannot stop asking.

If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.

I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.

Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
 
This poetry.
 I never know what I’m going to say.

I don’t plan it.

When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
 
Trans.
 Coleman Barks.
 
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