I look for her at sundown
but she fled to the north
never to escape herself
I reach out left handed
but the cold bed sheets
have long been empty
I look for her in dreams
but only find the terror
of dark maniacs stalking
I look for her in poetry
and she appears at dawn
warming coldest memory
she inhabits all my verse
there in a white solitude
she beckons from the page
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem