(1)
one night
the four feet of the bed
moaned
it was something
that we were
crazy
all about the bed
and its
moaning feet
(2)
the years flew
away
with four wings
things change
houses demolished
new waves of people
come
hordes left
rivers change course
buildings rise
fields turn into
footballs
cars rust
highways widen
into gulfs
(3)
one day
we meet
our memories
rush
strong as muscles
of
healthy men
we remember
the moans of the four feet of
the bed
we remember
the song of the night
each note
like the beating of our
long lonely
hearts
(4)
we try to savor once
more
what was tasty to the
buds of
of our tongues
yet our arms are no longer
ours
our heads are full
of present
worries
(5)
we meet and then we say
tiny little things
they are designed to be
discarded and then
be
intentionally forgotten
it will do us good
we must suppose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem