COLUMNS, stairs, a dozen
luminous lamps
and the sound from the office machines
cumbersome tasks
lined up ahead of us
The steps walk and walk
towards someone you must not become
who you already are
weeping and weeping,
begging for a kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is this called love after office hours? Who in the lonely apartment is? How does one get closer to? Where will this life take to? How to say, how will it be the situations and times of life? Who will become what? The poem has depth and many a thing to communicate and reveal to.