you realize that there is nothing that you keep
or can
at night a stranger of the house talks about
a departure
you listen as he is putting music to his flute
it is a sad one
it is like the sonorous sound of the rain at night
it is windy
the departure shall be early before the sun comes up
you never sleep
anticipating the excitement of the departure
there are only two of you
before the sun comes up between the two hills
both of you have already dissolve in the distance
blend with the trees, walk on grasses,
there are no traces, the two of you never exist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem