it is not easy to pretend that i am
not looking, and you know that when you
take fast glances at me
and i am caught redhanded
filled with desire
the way my hair sways gently
my eyes take some passes
when you catch me
with your quicker looks
i nod down pretending
that i am writing a letter of my own
to a friends miles and miles away
it is not easy for me to think
that you understand all these
longings of touching
and kissing
it is not easy to be a part of you
your past and my past
meeting and knowing very well
the fallen parts
and yet still too weak to pick
them all and give
the picture, the whole,
the real one, the one that shows
the falling of tears
the hands that wipe them
and the silence that comes
after
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem