Truth is not something one can easily share.
Who would think there could be beauty there:
black smudgy annotations stirring
on long loops of sagging shining wires:
then, as if on cue, choirs
of musical notes went winging
away into the unmusical air.
I heard only the insistent word…Where…?
Why? Why? did you not hear
me say quickly, come quickly – over here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem