The event does not take place here
we do not commit, nor make a plan
it can be imagined in a virtual language
To that end, reach hands, we ask no questions
it is obvious in crisp blank lines
Buried in voiceless mouths
covered by earth from space
with fragments in between
There is no good advice
nobody knows why
To continue the line; for the time being
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem