it would have been easy to write
about sunflowers
gazing to the light of the sun
and feel the wind
and hear the songs of the leaves
in an orchestra of nature
something so happily designed
something even so palatable to the tongue
nice to hear
soft to the feel of the skin
as soft as silk
or kapok
but times are hard
the truth is
you are alone in the hospital and
worrying about how to survive an ordeal
with relatives visiting only
for 15 minutes
and they go on with their own lives too
so i cannot write about the sunflowers
someone writes it
for us
i write something truthful to you
this existence of the mice and how it is trapped
in the gutter
under a heavy rain
with thunder and lightning
when everyone is soundly sleeping on their warm beds
when all the lights are turned off
when silence speaks again
without any bar
as to what to say
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem