There should not have been
any question marks on your
forehead. I am afraid―
you were becoming very typical..
Have you understood―
the meaning of life? There were
no clear answers from
your signs.
Weather was very unstable.
Remaining just private, I was
hiding you in my tears.
O my truth, what was my first lie?
Night will not throw any
shadows. I will wait for the moon
to rise. This ugly earth may look
beautiful. Did you paint―
your body with colors of fall?
Every leaf becomes my poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have mapped the topography of every bump on your aureoles, left and right. In my mind I visualize the path to the summit, to the very end of conceivable space. Breathless, without a secure safety line, I practice seeking perfection. I fear failure. I would rather die.