Because no one would take me,
I went to my grandmother's headstone by myself.
It was quiet by the cemetery road,
And when I spoke to her I could almost hear
I loved you because love is unburnable.
Because the thought of love occurs
Before we can think. Memory
Before we light the fire. She is in the snow's star
Now—I hear a voice
When it's dark enough. The less lit below,
The greater the view above.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem