Cain's despair of separation
Needed no mark.
His anquish looks back at me
Through the ink spots
And small words,
Useless words when the ethereal is in play.
The co-joining and sharing
Of organs and events.
Children carrying my soul to you
Like a string between two cans.
I hear your virbrations
Through them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem