The dead man
had in his pocket
a theatre
ticket stub
to the last night
of the play
a single
train ticket
some loose change
that didn’t amount to
much
the beginning of a poem
merely an unintelligible
scribble
little scrap of
Love
a precious
kiss
(invisible to all
but himself)
on his right cheek
that had never faded
but blossomed anew
each time he thought
about it
on his lips
was a name
that remained with him
always
& clutched
in his right hand
the memory of that kiss
that could never be
...forgot...
his heart
a prayer
reaching toward her
The ambulance man
saw
none of this
only that
there was nothing
they could do
to help
him now.
simple act
of hit & run
never even knew
he was dead
...what hit him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem