What is being empty?
It certainly is not being dead.
One lives, one smiles, one laughs.
But one is miles away from one's own self.
How deep is emptiness?
Perhaps an inch deeper than what your toe can reach.
How wide is emptiness?
Perhaps a finger more than what your arms can stretch.
How tall is emptiness?
Perhaps what the sky cannot dwarf.
What is being full?
The cruelty of not loving you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem