Is it possible to forget
how to feel a genuine love?
to simply and slowly die each day
like evaporating summer mist,
to lose the memory of your own name,
to no longer recall the sensation of a kiss?
I thought maybe with you
these things could be revived,
that I could live again
in the vulnerability of your eyes,
that I could take concern
for the fragile footsteps of somebody else.
I really did dream
that in one another we could be surprised,
two lost souls helping the other to survive;
but if my absence is what it takes
for you to catch your very first break,
then, I guess, I'm content not to see you again…
I've been selfish for a long lifetime,
maybe this once, I can let be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem