Maybe I have met you here once before,
Long ago, I had walked upon this floor.
You have hung up there,
If only to please the passers by.
Pale magnolia, satin glove, velvet gown.
Maybe I wanted to stay here with you,
Before I grew into your shadow.
To write you messages in the dust,
Or simply to paint your lips in another shade of red.
I was never able to walk away from you.
Take me here,
Take me there,
Take me where -
Where you sit, behind the glass,
Staring at something in a room long passed.
Is there something I can send you?
Sometimes I’ve wanted to send you myself.
To fall back again,
Once I have traveled a long way –
Back into the throes of perfect blue.
Maybe you tried to tell me that there was peace in there -
Sat upon that lonely, painted chair;
Where the onlookers stare,
And thought turns to air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem