On the Playing-field
We hugged tightly in the dark playing-field, like first-time lovers
For some reason, he suddenly left
He left me in the dark, no matter that the mosquitoes were kissing me
Moment by moment he was smaller and smaller until he was but a spot
Only a tiny spot of his familiar coarse cream-colored shirt
Was visible as he hurried to the parking lot under the pale light
Rushing to our car which we had bought together
H had to go back to his new home
Under the pale night light he looked like he was driving into a time tunnel
In a different time our positions were the other way around
My position was now just as his was in times past
We are two parallel lines that never cross each other
He has made new plans for us
And on another day he will appear again
Perhaps in the same coarse cream-colored shirt
But it will never be as it was
Yet life is short, so why do I need to avoid him?
I can continue the joy, if I love him well
“But, I know, nothing happens twice
Why, I cannot tell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem