You, young girls, whose faces,
if I try hard, alone, of a night,
I can recall, though your names
are more difficult,
exist, so to speak,
in the parallel universe of my mind,
and I,
as I once was,
or as you would have liked me to be,
live on in yours.
But as we are now
there is no crossing those frontiers,
and even if the possibility should arise,
in that other world
the people we have become
would be strangers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem