I whispered:
'There are many kinds
of oceans between us
I know but come';
and you came to the forest
three sighs before sunrise.
In the shade of an acacia tree
with newborn blossom on your breasts
and blushing leaves weaving
I carved my name on your spine - red
the sun shimmered in a flask-dawn
and the tree began to bloom.
My Morning Star,
the white flower in the meadow
the pristine cove and the fragile sand
the ease of dusk in summertime;
and I, the northern breeze at noon
the young sea exuberant and new
always rushing back to your timid shoreline.
Lullaby of a wounded dawn,
now a name on a marble tree
the scent of frankincense burning in the censer
the yellow lantern lit at midnight;
and I, alone in the forest
mourning the day without a sunset.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem