some books open up
and show their pages
like tongues
and you watch them
as you begin
to salivate like a
mad dog,
there is nothing new in
there
except the ears and the
words that dissolve too
in a distance
those that you like to go
back again
and grapple with
or perhaps even embrace
and shed tears again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem