Maybe it's true
There's a ghost surrounding me
Or two.
A mind going round and round
Thoughts that never stop
A lover won't be found
Death has harvested the crop.
My mind invents a story
Of his glorious recovery
Indulging like Orpheus and Eurydice's tale
With an end more joyous to tell.
My dreams are different -
Nightmare of a ghost
A stranger who's ignorant
The rotten body, used as host.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem