You are the grass,
lazy afternoon sun
running down
the shaft to the bulb of a golden hair.
You are the hopper:
never a minute to spare
always in readiness.
Together
we made a grasshopper:
an imaginary non-sense.
Sometimes, a surreal flare
blends into one
the shades of green we share.
We kiss, we play music at the dawn -
harmonious like water with the swan.
But sometimes,
when the autumn comes,
you migrate to other camps.
I understand:
you can’t care for just one little grass.
I have learnt the lesson:
Love doesn’t dwell in a person.
Love doesn’t have an address.
To love me more, you need to love you less.
To make you part of me,
I must set you free.
No why, no cry.
Just a simple: goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem