we get tired and try to take a nap
on a soft sofa in our sala
we lay there in silence
we do not want to talk
we simply want to close our eyes
and see things inside us
we remember a lot of things
a cup of coffee that we sip together
on a roadside cafe somewhere in france
we remember little things
like a pin, a ring, a handkerchief
then we move on to something
that knows what rotting means
a dry leaf, a mossy side of the pool
a dead tree, a rolling log, a cabin
then we get too engrossed in silence
and hazy places, a room dimly lit
by this halogen lamp creating a certain
warmth that we remember
some arms and hands and lips
we want something delightful
we begin to speak to someone beside us
how was your day? have you eaten your dinner?
then you transfer to your bed and then
you sleep and dream
with her beside you. You turn off the light.
Outside, it is dark like the color
of a woman's hair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem