I miss a song that I've never sung
and yet
I miss the sound of an instrument that I do not know
and yet
I miss a lesson that I never taught
and yet
I miss a sun that never warmed my face
and yet
I do know for a fact that I was born so many times under this smuggling sky
and of that miracle I still keep and cherish the notes, the secret sound of the right words
and the good heat that still makes me hope
for a new day of silence and happiness
under this forgotten suburban sky
and so be it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem