She imagines what I miss,
It clings to her shadow,
Before she knows it, it's caught up.
Instead of hunter, she's the prey.
It gets lost just like that.
I don't know what you knew,
But what I missed
Occurs in pictures on my way.
The soil subsides
Ever further; there's a point
Where everything will fall quiet.
And we, there in the midst,
An image that will not shift
Or vanish.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem