and then he writes about
love, his love,
he has changed, he has moved
away from
the common place where
everyone talks about
the world
the universe
eternity, and insatiability
the beard talks about
a spot where contentment lies
the bard calls it
paradise
the hat loves the wind
takes the journey of nowhere
and leaves the hair
that it promises shelter
and perhaps
devotion
the cane is a heavy breather
along the rock
it seeks winter
old man, old man, aged in
regrets, wallowing in wealth
alone
in the storms of his own
self-made depressions
where are all the children?
there is no park in here
the weeds have grown tall
instead
there is a sorrow that keeps
the refrains of our songs
a grief that promises forever
a tale that says
there is no such thing
as they live happily ever
after
why are you such a turn-off
leave us alone in this fantasy
we call it hope of the
vapors
the rivers give themselves
to a transparency
to come back again as
a rain in our lives
there is a lonely light in
the room
but come to think of it
it is so romantic
it is so beautiful
shall we read the same
book
under the same light?
this is an island, come,
come, we shall live there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem