When I am far away I will remember
The weight on my chest of your falling hair
The oranges in the blue bowl and on your lips
The grace of your hand fastening, unfastening
The superfluity of the last song, hanging in the air.
When I am far away I will fill with you
Whenever the scent of citrus wafts by
Or a dark-haired woman sways against her lover
Each time a long-fingered hand makes a guitar sing
And the last note rings across the balmy night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem