Every Time he puts his hand
On a spot of shadow
Shadow leaps
And dress it a glove.
Which way do you prefer her:
To be with you
Thinking of someone else
or to be
with someone else
thinking of you?
like a sleeping human
Dreaming that he is
sleeping beast dreaming that he is
sleeping human.
He doesn’t write
About her
on paper
he throws himself
on her
paper after paper.
You would love me the most:
when you lift up your hand
off me
I disappear.
Your hand
is the hand
of disappearing.
___________________________2/7/1995
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem