I know that in each later day,
voices can sicken the air for you
I can talk and watch
the mirror cloud before me
and say nothing, but
of the black dot I see in
the middle of a piece of white paper
then your voice enters my life
I let your music warm me within and without
and how can I forget the
admission of your stern lips
the way it would set upon my eyebrows
without telling me:
your happiness is
the white lake around you-
a bracelet's fire
and why can't you see this?
if not in me?
I will play good music
and remember God for you
where is God? - wherever
I am on my knees
in the repose of your
silent, strong arms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem