The One Who Has Run Away From Me

Non-stop he runs fast.

Without a break he keeps running and running all the way. He runs away.

It’s not typical of him to be in two minds. He runs. He runs away.

He runs non-stop. Whether he’s a man of bewilderment or not, who could say exactly

To whom? He runs. He runs away. Really and truly

He keeps running. He says he never turns back away. He runs.

He runs non-stop. Run. He runs away. He’s like a ray of light.

He runs. He breaks through. He runs through the green glass walls.

Rubbing the green paddy leaves with his hands he runs. He runs.

Why does he keep running? Does he know or doesn’t he know why? Nobody knows anything.

How about himself? Does he himself ever know why? Anyway he just keeps running.

Without knowing it himself, does he keep running? Like a convertible race car,

He runs fast. He runs fast till his hair flutters in the wind.

Nothing holding in his hands can be found.

Is holding nothing like that itself what he holds? He runs.

“This demands a great, great zeal,” he says. He’s not wearing any shirt.

His back is shining with beads of sweat. He runs. Rain or shine,

He doesn’t care. He keeps running. Nothing can be asked about him. He runs.

He doesn’t look back. Like a boat that slipped its moorings and drifted away,

He runs. To which point? To where? He knows? Or he doesn’t know? He keeps running.

While running, he doesn’t press his hands against the chest.
He doesn’t bend down to look at his feet either.

He runs once and for all. All that he has ever learned his whole life has spilled all over

Just like the way the water in a cup does. It all happens while he’s running. Nothing left to be shown.

Get mixed as if cigarette smoke were puffed out to get mingled with the clouds.
He is such a mingling leaf. A paddy grain inside a paddy grain!

Apart from being a human being, he’s not anything more than a human being.

He runs. A truck just like a highway truck!

He runs. He runs away like a train that happens to step foot on its own footprints.

Has he been blown away? Has he run away? Just ask him.

He runs. To the edge of the vicissitudes of life? Before sunset, from one horizon to another new one?

He won’t answer the questions. There’s an answer to every question. He doesn’t seem to believe that.
He doesn’t think either that just answering the questions is a perfect solution.

How will he approach the truth? He wonders. He runs away. He comes back to try dealing with it.

Has he run away? Is he running towards a solution? Run!

He doesn’t take a break. He keeps running. He goes on running. He runs away.

Days and nights

Have they thrown him away as if a tissue was thrown away after being used to wipe the lips off?

He’s a spill. He runs away. Intentionally or unintentionally does he keep running?

He runs. He doesn’t know if he keeps running intentionally towards his purpose.

He carries on. He goes on running. No break. No pause. He runs. He’s continuously on the run.

He runs. I find myself gazing at his back. He runs. He keeps running and running.

He runs non-stop. He’s continuously on the run. Oh! That’s my own back!

I find myself gazing at it. Run! Run! I keep on running and running.

I find myself going on running. Run! Keep running.
I keep running. I just keep running and running and running.

Zaw Htein
May 2006
Translated from the Burmese by KSW