the well spills out water
what was beneath
rose and everyone
even children touch
the surface
when once it was dry
the hollowness
plays mystic to the wind
the deep voices
sing the notes of
what was once interesting
now we play on its waters
as though there is nothing to know
so unimportant
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really, really love this poem. It says so much, and it leaves so much unsaid that it achieves a kind of equilibrium which is comforting and perfect.