things are
getting different
now
the earthen jar
outside the house
is filled with
rain
the glass which
you tilted
lays flat on the
floor
steady on its
newly found
emptiness
the song of
the world keeps on
humming
and birds roosted
in the nights of
silence
things are getting
different
old things are ruined
old thought
fade away
old paths are no longer
visible
when i arrive here
i think of nothing too
amazed with what is
not here anymore
with what is different
i have no name
no place and no number
anymore
i pretend i
do not know you
and you must
do the same
i guess this is
how is it to really
live for
another day in this
old place
which had never really
got its new shape.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem