And when I go dig deep the past,
I find the fair face I saw first.
And then another,
And another:
To now at last.
I fumble glows I lit and left,
And cast again my sieving net.
In my sieving net before,
I cought less the ones i wished,
And the ones I wished not more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem