watching the two of you
in such a huddle
at noon
till nighttime
i can imagine the pain
in those
suppressed silence
i could be too stupid to
dare ask
your face shows the magnificent
pretense
just like the other
when i look to the other side
you show the truth
i do not bother checking some more
you both, are entitled to your own
opinions of the flesh, as i try
somewhere else to find
what ought to be
right what ought to be done
it is after all not a question of
pain or
ecstasy
but i think it is more of the nobility
that dignity in the journey
of solitude, of distance, of
identity in honored isolation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem