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day

day

Poems by: Philip Larkin
Translated by: Faslli Haliti

What are our days for?

Days serve us to live.
They come and wake us up
Every time again.
They serve us to live happily.


Where can one live but in the days?

Ah, to solve the problem
He also brings the priest and the doctor
With their long dresses
Run across the fields.
And after you have gone through all your mind,
what you see is clearer than a bill of lading.
You don't have to think about anything else
that exists.

And what is the priority?

Only that, over time,
we anticipate the blind trail
that all our acts contain, and bring them back home.
But to confess,
in that green evening in which our death begins,
what was that, it's not really enough
for it was carved on a man only once,
and that man died.