Everything contains some silence.
Noise gets its zest from the small
shark's-tooth- shaped fragments
of rest angled in it. An hour of city
holds maybe a minute of these
remnants of a time when silence
reigned, compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes a bit of
a tail or fin can still be sensed in parks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem