Abstracted through life, rounded up and into itself,
tending to spread out and be uncontained - a dreadful
trend.
Filling out into space and time, touching almost on
divine.
Swiftly fading from a memory before it is defined, full
and resonant, it does appear.
Looking at something, watching it closely in repine
lest it disappear, softly leaving nothing in your mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem