Packed away in my box (we are) ,
Flanked by cigarette butts and soda cans,
Your limbs say you’re dreaming.
Have I made you ill?
“For my next trick
You will see what I see …”
Nevertheless,
The fading echoes
Of your unconditional love
Nourish: eternally.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem