a smell, your smell,
that perfume that sticks
to my skin,
your sweat, that wetness
between us,
dry before us, desert sand,
nothing to talk about oasis,
camels in a caravan
under the stars one evening,
you are my tent,
i live there, but you are not
there, there is this blankness
that i face within me,
there is this trail that smells
like you, i follow,
and then i stop, it is not us
there, there is no us,
there is the star that shines
one evening
it does not last,
but every evening it comes
back to me,
too near, in my mind,
too far, in reality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem