one that I imagined
has gone before me
she lived a poet's life
and died too young
possessed by words
images and madness
she understood search
but not the journey
she tried to teach me
how to be a scholar
I knew she captured
the words I needed
what she took with her
cannot be found again
the book we wrote
is the silence of death
a forgotten language
I never speak her name
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem