Quiet dreams lying in sleep, unawakened by the morning sun,
sleeping soundly, not disturbing them at all, thinking of
those moments of the past.
Wondering why they happened in just this way, like walking
a tightrope without a safety net, air spiked with an ex-
citing thrill of anticipation surrounding this being with-
out any reasons of accompaniment at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem