IT happens when
we did not know that
we have already arrived
home
waiting is an
illusion and
arriving is too
real
that you could not help it
but prostrate
and kiss the
belly of the
earth
it is not imaginable
the first day i met you
and then
where are we now?
i am talking beside
your grave
i am putting flowers
for the dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem