I skim sadness like fat off the surface
of cooling soup. Don't care about
metaphor but wish it would arrive
me. There's a cool current of air
this hot day I want to ride.
I have no lover, not even my love.
I have no other, not even I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Was it Shmaltz? Just kidding. Yes, poets are a lonely bunch, As you say, sometimes they don't even have themselves. Well done