Memories struggle like
an ant
that fell into a cup of tea.
It may be retrieved
by your lips that sip
or a finger extended.
Yet,
in the nightmares
about being bitten
or crushed,
the ant gets lost.
In the attempt to wait until
a spoon arrives as a ladder,
I let the mind float
in the musical note
of swallowing a mouthful.
The tea
wets life
warmly.
English translation by: Sri Vatsa
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem