It is overcast and blue,
The man in the cafe'
Has lost his shadow
And he can't see me
And he can't see you.
A day like no other day,
A man like any other,
Your friend, your muse and brother.
He is the consummate third person,
Nothing matters to him
And until he touches and sees you
He cannot love, he cannot sin.
He is not my subject,
He is his own man,
I am only a medium, no poet, no master
And even I don't know who I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem