I lay here
upon this small sailboat
oarless
in the river, time
which flows both the ways
above, the pavement
of an ailing heaven
below a colorless livelihooh
in between 'if'
an shapeless if
and I lay in that if
the past corpses
have already been ripen
nowe kept in a warehouse
along with some nomadic feelings
some rolling stones
and I lay beside them
the fungi colored evening waits
for the white morning
like a leaf waits for
raindrops
no river can touch the sky
but the clouds act as intermediary
I do not have the dreaming
eyes of Yashodhara
neither I have seen
any white elephant in my dream
yet and yet
I lay here
upon the sailboat, life
in the rive, time
waiting to cross
the green bay of nirvana
Today,
I don't want to live for
I just want to live...!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem