Its odd
how i'm aware of your surprising presence, which comes often
nd rare
in glimpses of nearness nd far.
Odd too, how i have no form of as of conspicuous to my mind.
So often the motor i hear, and its dress of silver i've come to study. Let it be when i come
to hear no more and c,
and then that familiar shall be unfamiliarity
and be gone.
Then all my blood shan't rush.
Oh but let it be whatever be, a
nd i shall calm myself by learning to breathe
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem