I have been living
closer to the ocean than I thought--
in a rocky cove thick with seaweed.
It pulls me down when I go wading.
Sometimes, to get back to land
takes everything that I have in me.
Sometimes, to get back to land
is the worst thing a person can do.
Meanwhile, we are dreaming:
The body is innocent.
She has never hurt me.
What we love flutters in us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
short but very lovely poem....