She was just the voice
to file the dark cabinet,
the secret choice,
pulling me
like an electromagnet.
It is but by the yearning
we can tell if we belong,
only thus are we learning
how to be,
to hum life’s short song.
It is the free will’s domain
between random’s call
that keep my weary days sane
when all I see
are year’s and season’s fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem