I can hear
a passerby
draw a line, hear
departure thin out
into a listening
a street reaches a dead end
on its way out, a dog
appears scraggily in search
of finding - nothing
is as aimlessly effective
as sniffing about in
nothing
I stand at the window
immersed anonymously
in my memories
what I see
turns out to be a riddle that
refuses to resolve itself
in me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem