In the world.
But if for them you never speak,
they can not speak for you.
One only, only one can speak it into, suddenly.
For the second time, if it is to be, be it now.
High above and soft of voice I hear you speak.
Simultaneously midnight is with the coming noon.
And that other child is swallowed gathered fast.
There upon with the hallowed it is swallowed.
For the second time is it not of that, which drives us on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem