I am bouncing a ball by myself
in an empty playing field
When the night wind's footsteps
step on the leaves one leaf one leaf
and again one leaf
at a time
the sound of the bouncing ball
echoes toing toing
across the empty field
You who have escaped from me
toing
toing
I throw the ball into the net!
I throw you
high up!
Are you a hollow made from the blow of my breath?
Tonight
I will tie up your face
in space
If I throw the ball up in the air will the wind also throw me?
Every time the wind throws me up in the air
and hits me toing toing
it feels as if the skin of my face
with its holes is getting pulled
tight
Oh, then am I also a hollow
made from someone's breath?
In the totally empty night sky
the sound of someone's hand
hitting the taut moon
toing
toing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem