You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
The lines may be lying
But read them again
I may be somewhere in the lines between
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem