what i have been writing is simply
the product of
a big distraction
it is like the blind
writing about light
i hear it and i know it
but i cannot clearly see it
and hence
i have never fully understood it
if i understood it
i shall not bother writing about it
this doubt shall make me live to write for more
i have it in my tongue but it slips the moment i want to utter it
behind me are scenes of my rumored true being
i set it aside for a while to describe it in words
but words are too shallow
i cannot bury my feet on them
and so the same things happen
night after night
sleepless after sleepless hands
groping for a dark and elusive fish in space
i submerge into unfathomable madness
do not get me wrong i am sane as the brightest star tonight
but just like it
there is no intimacy
for clarity
there is only beauty at a distance
like the way we wish to hold the hands of whom we love
we long that much but
we do not die.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem