”I stand where I stand every day
supported by my cane and my determination,
I stand from dawn to dusk in the doorway
of what was once my pride: My beautiful mansion.
With rational eyes, naturally I can see
today it’s just another old, dilapidated house
at this unwelcoming and foreign street
of concrete, asphalt, tiles and glass.
’Tis not the place I moved to when
I young and strong married my spouse,
the street, the town were different then
now all that’s left is this one house.
They’ve torn down all the other ones
replaced them with these concrete towers,
where young, ambitious people these days hunt
for riches, fame, promotions and for power.
I fear that soon my house is next in line,
and that is why I stand here everyday,
as long as I live this house remains mine
I won’t allow them to scare me away!
How could I happy be in what they call
euphemistically a ”retirement home”
when this house alone knows what befell
me and my family: This is my only home.
This is the place where my wife handed me
our firstborn baby, many years ago,
and the place when too she finally
died on our bed, not very long ago.
I must preserve this place with all my might
for what life do I have when thus bereaved
of all my memories, no I will stay and fight
till the final day when I will be too weak.
After my death the house will be torn down
and make room for concrete towers anyway,
the old street will be lost when I am gone
as this one house is all that stands today.
And when that happens, who will then remember
the lives we lived in such close quarters then,
and the stories whose most important members
already rest in graves, who will remember them?
Who will remember me when I am gone
and when they’ve torn my house down piece by piece,
the house, the old, beloved mausoleum
of my life – they will not allow it peace.
When I am gone no-one can stop them
from obliterating history
but till that day I stand here, with contempt
marked in my wrinkled face, as they pass me.”
Nobody can stop the flow of time
this is a common fact of course,
but neither should we disregard and harm
past stories, for they too are ours.
In striving towards future goals
while spreading wings and soaring high
do not forget the tales of old,
your roots are you, they formed your mind.
And disregard for history
will be humanity’s dying breath
when rootless people’s crude ambitions
shall destroy all we have left.