Buried in time-holed yellow papyrus
of an unread book of poems
lay hidden a card
the token of a gift
inked in skeletal scribbles
indecipherable
but for five words
indelible in dusty piles' ravage
speaking the gifter's voice
time has come
right now
ripened
to read the book of poems
honor my words.
read when you forget me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem