I had a silent conversation
with the shadow of a statue.
It questioned me with very forgettable words
and I told it 'I like both Rilke and Neruda.'
It told me 'That is a very powerful statement.'
I tipped out my chin in defiance.
'When has the truth ever been weak? '
It had no answer for me,
so we sat in silence,
each barring our inner parts
while exploring that of the other.
5 august o8
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem