Ghost of the present moment,
you glide by unbidden,
to only god knows where.
Memories and forgotten laughter,
you follow us to the grave
where we lie closed up,
holding you fast forever.
Under the exhalation of stars,
in primitive soil we lie,
both claimed and unclaimed-
the outgrown home of a soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The outgrown home of the soul. I like your poetry.