The path that never learned to drown—
even when floodwaters broke their bounds and came.
That path is your own heart;
and those wild waters are my love.
For what is soaked may fear the drying air,
but love fears only the silence of divide.
The wind is heedless—
it touches what is impure, yet stays untouched.
Love enters blind;
it knows the burning of the sun,
yet never once has seen a grain of light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem