you are like a window
half-open
still in a crisis of whether
to close
or open
or perhaps simply sifting
what wind
shall be allowed to enter
always indecisive
as to what really must be done
tonight
perhaps i am thinking that
much
about you
underestimating that all you wanted
to have
in this sophisticated minding
is just the soft light of the moon
on that window
that is always half-open
and that really
there is nothing much to it
to debate upon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem