Curled up in bed,
I'm young
in the old way.
•
One
continuous stroke
without lifting
the pen
as if
"stem, tendril,
stem tendril"
were the words
of a commandment.
•
My next
elliptical loops
read "Praise."
Word
deciphered
at a snail's
pace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem