there will always be reasons
as there are leaves from the trees,
why, this word never goes extinct,
it is famous, and always gets the
good ratings in the scoreboards
of our interrogative history,
why did you leave me? why did you
forsake me?
these are the top questions of
those who are in pain, of those
you have betrayed, and you
hide, wanting to grasp the most
convincing answer, like the leaves
of the trees,
falling, rotting, decaying, and
wanting to come up, rise
to the trunks, to the clouds
still wishing to explain, to exude
the sweet smell of humus,
death is sweet
decay is cool, in rotting
shall come the sweetest flavor of the soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem