I shouldn't rip the pages out.
It leaves uneven numbers,
and loose threads,
ideas with no past,
or ideas that have vanished altogether.
Your scribbled notes of addresses,
or shopping lists, tear them out if you like.
But not this side,
writing here is a commitment.
Be very sure.
The fickle critic is watching.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem