We tried it again
but by then people had heard about it,
it wasn't the same.
We had once stumbled upon
something magical,
and it was the discovery
that had caught our imagination.
And now it could not be re-found,
despite our efforts,
so we left it there where we found it.
A shack in the woods,
with open bottles of cheap wine
and pipe ash on wooden tables.
— a t t i cu s
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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