years i have slept
i am the knife that sliced time
and i move away from you
we do not interlace
we are broken links of that
old necklace
and then i wake up one day
i am a boy, that little one by the window
looking for mom
i walk that morning to that garden of stones
and there
i find your name again
time does not wait
it is an arrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem