Easy to think we speak
the same language of feeling.
The boxes we live in
that define our frames
touching on one long side,
still has three facing outside.
A thought, meeting on a plane
does it really mean the same
surrounded by strange air
on sides we can not see?
Does love mean to her
same that it does to me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem