the best things that
happen to us
cannot be said.
just like the best
moment within.
the best things between
us can never be told.
too private to behold.
too blissful to reduce in words.
as we parted ways, we savor
what was within and between us.
as we move on with our lives,
lousy as they seem, we flow
with the tide of these
usualness, this casualness.
the ordinary cannot be defeated.
inside a big house, inside
a flashy car, working on a
high paying job, traveling
far and wide, eating in
expensive restaurants, how
could they even know the
kind of unique poverty that
still dwells in your soul?
an empty shell, a vast space,
all those wishes of they dying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem