from you i shall ask nothing
the way the sun makes its presence felt
the fields of grass
have nothing to ask
as gently as the morning arrives
handing air and light
in that sleepy room
what shall i ask from you some more?
memories? oh no more
we had some
we had more and so perhaps
what we can ask for ourselves
perhaps perhaps is just
a brief
goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem