But while the moonlight still ripples and threatens
To quiver and escape the cup of her hands
And fall, shattering, to the ground
Like the palette of experiences each of us shares
Yet can somehow never relate
I recognize comfort in the indefinite reaches of darkness behind her
Rising up to greet and consume
But stands only to trace the outline of her shape
And illuminate her further
Bent to pen and sleep
Pulling me close enough that I might whisper into my own ear
Not so sweet
Nor so nothing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem