like distant boats at sea
not wanting touches of foams and sand
i lie here in this strangeness
of beach and bench
sunburned and feigning to be happy
in the cottage there is a woman
far from me
she knows what is it in me that closes and opens
nothing but doors
all the groans and moans she make
are unnecessary
the grunts and punches
she could be thinking of another town
or another man
her eyes as you see may be filled
with wounds
pain stings her like red ants
i watch her and then i step forward
to meet another dusk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem