one day you meet a stranger in your house
and you very well know his name
and you serve him coffee
and you feed him fish and rice
the dinner that you can afford, and you tell him
stories about your past and you go beyond
you tell him about your present, your woes and of
course some happy experiences, and you go beyond that
as you serve him some glasses of wine
you tell him about your future, your questions and your hopes,
your anticipations, and some fears, some longings
you tell him that somehow you are afraid about the uncertainties
and then the stranger faces you
his face is exactly you, everything, everthing, you shake his hand
you know his name very well, and you stop this dramatic thing
having a monologue with yourself one cold, and lonely evening.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem