Who do you—think, you are
What are you looking at
—How did I address that?
When I look into your eyes
It's the same as looking at the stars.
When we each wondered if
If, either they're dead or alive.
The world is cynical.
Your eyes are cylindrical.
They're the only two stars; left in the sky.
I sense I haven't seen enough to know.
I sense I haven't seen enough of them.
Not even if I look into them
Unblinking, until-I, go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem