When I hear my neighbor enjoying a shower so late at
night, in that handful of hours when you can't tell
if it's today or tomorrow, I think of the reason why
I would do the same.
Returning home from a romance escapade, dripping with
sweat and euphoria that fades into the desire to cleanse
myself, standing under the cascade of manufactured rain,
I wonder if he'll call me in the morning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem