Of two lips, a he and a she, you were born, Wonder.
Springtime entered to rise in you.
Separated from the two, you conducted
My blood symphony.
Oh, word of mine, unique
As a one with burnt out zeroes,
Sensitive as a magnet's needle
To the North Star.
Of two lips, a he and a she, seeing and invisible.
I do not know whose dream embodied you, whose
Tearburst ardently extinguished you.
Without you, I was a cinder, I was
Without body-or-tongue.
And you, unique, my I, you heard
Under dust and shards
My breath.
You came to life, immortal as death.
1979
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem