Holding a train rail is like loving you-
I hold you so tight, you shake me through.
I know the train’s comin’, but know not when
I’ll hold on to the rail until then.
Looking at the moon, do you see it too?
There’s a cold wind that blows right through.
This field is empty where we once laid,
the stars burn cold beneath the shade.
Was this forest always so deep?
There once was a path that we’d keep.
Come to me and lay no lies,
we are so vulnerable under empty skies.
The knife is sharp, and blood runs deep-
waterfalls over wrists until I sleep.
Together at last, we become one.
This field is now auburn under a setting sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem