Come love it is long, silent there it is, it is there.
Running back with you, I learn again to walk.
I stumble upon time.
To see the sun and watch it rise.
And I am blind and my feet walk upon silent stone.
You walk and tread like the leaf.
Dry it makes no noise sinking up to your ankles.
Someone else by the bushes, If you run, she turns me, both move.
Who?
Although it is dark, just your lonely steps are heard.
Odorless roses freed,
entirely of me and misunderstood I turn, between the corners.
I go where it leads up to the womb of permanence or,
every one whom waits, no one follows but me,
and the place where she stumbles where I stumble are pursued.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem