it feels like i am drained
of all my running water
the fishes in me are jumping
gasping for precious breath
i have this mouth but it
cannot speak
after all, she says, i must
be a river
always, she continues, without
more water
how can she love me forever?
she is the stone in the middle
of my pool, and when i run dry
on a hot day of summer
she will just be another stone
of this death-bed beside a mountain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem