A dusty cloud passed in front of the sun
lowering the mountain side
to a winter lair
for my love
and her lover.
A bridge rumbled beneath my feet
but my steps
were without direction.
It was just as far across the bridge
as I had come from my childhood.
So death had to be found
somewhere between me and the grey willows
on the opposite bank.
It all lasted less than a minute
but the rest of the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem