a child open his arms in Asilo
asking if i can be his father,
without answering him in words
my arms hug him in return
i lift him from the ground and
feel his heart beating unto mine
there is a connection between
two hearts in that thick line of emptiness
between two kinds of loneliness
a child understands it well i think
i didn't
in my age where my hair refuses to
be white
or gray
i am given more options like an ocean
where i am but a very small ship
the child has none
he can only be a bird without wings
drowning at sea
he sleeps and i give him back to the
penguin
oh, i have more places in my heart
less any child
i am a man with so many homes
wanting to be a vagabond again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem