the bow must be strong
and so must the string be
but with more flexibility
and the arrow must be
sharp and smooth and
to the air it must know
its ways like the river
to its own winding tunnel......
the hand pulls the tail
the resistance works
the arrow against the bow
and then you shall see
something is gone in
such a sudden way
far, far, farther away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
but it did not leave scars from where it start but a wound to where it may land.... ohhh Cupid....you hit me again...you know my heart is very weak, i could love so easily :)