Now I

Am going to bind my hope to a mountain

Because it is an encounter it is

A possibility.

On that mountain childhood’s mind

(Its) compassion/affection/tenderness was hidden.I don’t know where your smile was left

And where is your unfinished stare/look.

Your half way buried body

Tells me

What is going on.

Because by looking behind I,

I got hurt.

This is a truth that was given to me too late

The last thing an encounter would give.

I remember the crops.

The wheat showing us how to be ourselves

When they get cut.

The poplar trees were moving that day

It was spring

Lifting all the joys in the air.

What we spoke I don’t know

But I know the unspoken.

 

The unspoken

Was what got lost into the rustling of the poplar trees and left

It was what was moving in our blood the unspoken.

But it is late

It is so late,

Even if I walk that mountain

There is no one.Neither night

Nor fire

There is not waiting either between us

There is only a mountain.