Summer, six years ago... we met;
Not in the flesh,
But in words and metaphors;
We got drunk in philosophy,
Had our fill of haunting melodies,
Drenched in art and other abstracts of life.
You were raw and blunt,
I had an emotional range of a teaspoon,
You were dark and deep,
I was shallow,
But we met halfway,
Somewhere between certain and uncertain,
In a place called almost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem