inside the house of this body
there lies a treasure of
old tops
and toy cars
and
dusty dolls
a little girl owns it
but soon gives it up for
something else
a little boy loves it
but outgrows this love
for toys
outside the fence of this body
lies a dimension
beyond play
there is this distance far
from the reach of
our frozen wishes
there is this blanketed portion
like a dark umbrella
where light filters
dust
dancing like ladies
to men
like butterflies
there is a dream that hurts
because
it never becomes true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem