Tinnitus
Listen!
Listen to the hissing of the wind
The wind that isn’t there.
The sibilation in the middle of the night
and in the broad daylight.
Always there within my mind.
Marking thought.
The wind that isn’t there
Hisses.
I can hear it in my thought,
And I can hear the singing in the stillness
of my nameless friend.
Unbaptized, uncircumcised,
Singing in the hissing stillness.
He sings to me a tune or no tune,
But he's there consoling me
in the sibilantic silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem