Before you return
I conjure scenes and words
that make you whole:
you are a kind of poem
in my head.
The poem includes me,
rises far above
the moment like a wishing star
in the evening sky.
I map whole constellations
surrounded by their darknesses.
All the while asking why
when the door opens
I will have to pause,
because no real poem ever
resembles the poem’s cause.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem