Few forget the sea
for one droplet,
but I don't remember
your face, only the drop
that hung from the tip of your nose
and fell into the wine glass.
Was I looking at you
or at myself, or at something
in between, I don't remember
but the incandescent light
struck that droplet and shimmered
and, shimmering, fell.
The wine still trembles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem