what i remember is the word space,
and the image of a train that speeds its way towards home,
it is always crowded and most eyes are sleepy
and the hours whisper about things to be done next
and next and tomorrow which seems
that life is always unfinished business as there is always
something to crowd our mind with and i remember you holding
a book about a love story which ended upon a tragic image,
ah never mind, i like the way you create space between you and the book and the way your head leans on the wall of the train as though telling you that soon there will always be that
inevitable happy ending
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem