The heart must flower and fade, and know
that between tomorrow and forever, one must
address the hope beyond hope. Like how
the tracks of the angels are without the need
of meaning. But everything is for such a short time,
that i can only lift the glass to my mouth; and
remember man invented man to be enjoyed,
fulfilled, and only know the truth like a ghost
interferes with love for the cemetary that
stretches across the earth until the grave is
not necessarily so beautiful in numberless forms.
Until i imagine us all heard in the world, catching
a falling star who is better off than we are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem