Using the notes blared to cover the void,
Swiftly, quickly, I erase your presence.
But, naïve as I, past lives aren’t destroyed.
And my mind – frantic – floats in your essence.
Alive and pulsing are my ghosts that haunt –
They never found me when you were around –
The ghost with steel hands – again makes me gaunt.
Swirling and snatching my youth – they surround.
Should I’ave given you his forsaken name?
You being valiant in protection;
Should I hide my face from this wicked shame?
Or wait for personal resurrection?
Everything was complicated with you,
But since you’ve vanished, nightmares have swept through.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem