I watch the fireflies
Constantly refreshing constellations
Tracing the slow paths they follow
Combing the air for affection
I wish them well in their search
As they follow other follower, chasing
Each over long tangled loops of night
Utterly unaware of their own pursuers
It’s sad and funny
As most real things are
Just seems so improbable
With all that emptiness
And just a pin-prick of flickering
Light gliding always away
To guide you
Those brief pulsing lights
Singing their longing arias of summertime
They are the hope amidst darkness
And I would call the whole mess useless
But what do I know
After all, there are still
Fireflies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem