I do not know whether you ever existed.
I want to picture you, I know.
Your hair, grazing the earth,
tames the Moon.
I do not know how long we may remain
the freckles of the blue sky,
uncounted starlights,
soft lips above one another.
I cannot fathom time’s secret,
perhaps it is only a mournful illusion.
The world, after all, never laughs,
because to it, all is grace
and not a false invention.
No comments:
Post a Comment