On a school trip to Paris
you slept upon my shoulder
and I dared not move for hours
sleepy Sanae, sat up late again
meeting some deadline.
On every television, planes
demolish buildings endlessly
and we don't understand.
At Notre Dame, we waited at day's end
everyone back but Sanae
at last you came, sated with Monet -
we all relaxed then
and began the journey home.
Still on our screens tall buildings
devour planes repeatedly
still we don't understand.
Neat hair, smart suit, brisk walk
you looked so fine when you came back
to visit us one day -
good student Sanae doing well
at university.
Again and again the planes,
the buildings,
our failure to understand.
We heard about your training course at WTC -
rumours, then doubts, then lastly
a hopeless certainty -
Sanae was there - she's missing -
she will not be found.
Ever and ever again we'll see
those planes, those buildings
but we'll never understand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem