it is ten o'clock in the evening
and here i am listening to Beethoven.
i imagine ten goats running on evergreen hills.
stopping for some herbs.
my eyes are hazy, and i am getting numb and
lazy.
piano keys and rats' feet, and this peace
in between
where i insert myself and reflect in a place
where there are no mirrors
a river perhaps, clear and cool and blue skies.
a glass of red wine, no, please, no memory of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem