And I was suddenly aware of reality;
Of the spatial of objects
and my finite being
and the ever speeding clock's movements;
How I am running out of seconds
The end of our slow dance
is too near
We are both dancing
on the same floor
and there is no haitus;
In this continual conciousness;
not even in comatose
You can be touched
Even in the unaware
Time must be hell's concoction;
How it is always in control
My birth date is nearing
A year will have gone by
and still I haven't told you
How much I love you
And I never will; I'm afraid
The slow dance always ends
It has once before,
and it will again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem