if you read my lines now,
as you have made it a habit
(perhaps, out of curiosity
for what has become of my
present, and the uncertainty
of my coming days) .....
please, do not take things
seriously,
the lines are ordinary words
more like the structure of my
own fingers,
uneven, scattered, and bound
by the flesh and bones of my
hand,
take these lightly, so light
that we can feel the bird in
you and then you realize that
you have feathers, wings, and
then you have befriended the
winds,
now, perhaps, by taking me lightly
and all the things inside you,
i guess, as i have done it myself,
you can now fly
(not literally of course,
but in the sense of metaphorical
flights,)
a mind so light, as light as
dust,
visible in that light that
pushes itself
in the darkness of our
room
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sweet and wise................