The last of the DYING BREED here, translated…
The Ones that Remained
Are the Lasts
Totally Still
With Mosses Growing Atop
Making People Uneasy
Walking in Circles Fast
Making the Fires
The Tears Fell Like Rain
And None Can Return
Back to the Scene of the Accident
Forbidding Beatings
Pussing Up, and Busting Out
The Cracks Won’t Allow
The Ones Remained
Were the Final of the Race
The Sunrise Became Sharpened Like the Tip of the Knife
The Sunset, Cutting into the Flesh
With the Memories Overflowing
Not Daring, to Die
And so, this, is someone who’s suicidal, I’m thinking, and, perhaps, the one that the poet is describing became suicidal because s/he has NOBODY left, and the individual failed to realize that so long as s/he still has her/himself, s/he will be all right, and that’s just what not having a strong sense of the self gets you, or at least, that, would be the interpretations that I have of the poem.
nope, still NOT my photograph…
Life, the Obstacle Course 