Meet me yesterday,
I'm going back to sleep;
in the dried-up garden,
by the cornfield.
I'll fall down a second time,
tripping over a wheat grain;
gazing into the dark void,
between my heart and your brain.
You should walk past me,
unlike you didn't yesterday;
I'll pick myself up,
dusting off all the hay.
You promised tomorrow,
forever and always;
yet tomorrow hasn't come,
for many long days.
Your words were shallow,
my pains were deep;
meet me yesterday,
I'm going back to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem