Like an insatiable fly in a slipstream
of gratuitous decay-
you stared into the sun,
perchance to lose sight of your scars,
or to better color me by number-
in that monochrome scale
that men have used paint the stars.
But I could not go blind with you
and I could not be your eyes.
So like a listless satellite
in the vacuum of space
I will drift unadorned
with a centripetal pull in my veins-
to move on-
and carry this light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem