syllables soon
form the word
that you want
to utter this early
morning, they
lurk there for
the whole night
like a cocoon
and then something
like a moth comes
out and so you
open your mouth
something blue and
winged and beautiful
and it flies away
like a pebble that
you thrown away
against the dark
you may pretend
that it does not
know you but hell
sure it knows you
well enough and
it is seeking the
help of the dusk
who can deny it?
not your heart that
stil still beat for love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem