... About myself-for others



Rendezvous in a smoky bar
Hidden in the half-dimmed dark.
Secret, shielded, glancing around
Hand in hand, pondering bound.
Waiting always, a fleeting hour
Eyes of light, lips of moonflowers
Color of her hair, taste her voice in the air.
Softly touching, gently tasting
From time to time trembling, shaking.
Waiting for death longing for peace
The fleeting moments treasured, sweet
Recalling scenes of hands in hand
Buried together in one land.
Dove landing on the headstone cross
coos to his mate, who sits across
He can’t recall sadness or loss
Just a rendezvous from a past that’s lost.

Translated by Esther Brownwood



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