in the most noisy world
you can close your ears
and the sights you see
can have your own music from your soul
you can choose
what to hear and you can also pretend about what to see
or feel
you started doing this a long time ago
on that day when the birds of dawn broke their wings
when the light from the moon bent a little to have the illusion
of quiet, too early to learn
how is it to be a dove amidst the bats
how is it to be a lamb around the foxes
the world since then has become one big square
and then you create a scene: a green river flowing inside the forest
singing like a maiden
nude as she arranges her black hair
long enough to cover her breasts... and then
you place a man along the banks
paddling a boat towards her nipples
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem