I HAVE ransacked the encyclopedias
And slid my fingers among topics and titles
Looking for you.
And the answer comes slow.
There seems to be no answer.
I shall ask the next banana peddler the who and the why of it.
Or-the iceman with his iron tongs gripping a clear cube in summer sunlight-maybe he will know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem