A broken heart
An obscure present
A past that was
Carry I
In my hands,
Carry I:
Before you I
A broken heart
An obscure present
A past that was
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The second half of this poem repeats the first half so that the poem circles around itself in a self-enclosed whole. And my description of the shape of the poem shows why it is so hard to make a decent comment on it, that is, after expressing itself succinctly, the poem shut its door and windows and left no access to something outside of it. And rightly so, because it was offered as a gift and once given it has fulfilled itself. The rest is silence.