To lose you, it is nothing to lose you,
to stand only in the rain of you,
the rain that falls only from you,
from the bottom of your hair.
To lose you in the deep yellow
of wild anise, to lose you, to climb
down your heavy rain, it is nothing.
And to touch you, the rim and depth
of you, the lightest fold, the darkest hair,
the beating wing of the skin we can never see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem