sometimes he
asks
in the middle of his
sorrow
where is that soul mate
that must appease
longing
upon a cliff
one sees layers of
time's scars
upon cut timber lies
epochs
myriad circles
yet missing
that center of
the soul
that is the journey
of the boat
looking for its
right port
it longs for the right
time
to lower finally
its stable anchor
at the bottom
of the
ocean floor
the storms are here
but who shall
care?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem