Translated…
In a Blink of an Eye, There Was Just This, Word Root Remaining in This Room
Stood on that Narrowed, Slanted Field at the Bottom of the Hearts
A Sort of Narrowness, a Kind of Wilderness-Filled Plateau Too
I’d Walked on My Field of Yellow Flowers, Parallel to You, Walking Along on Yours
So Many Years Had Passed
So Many Years Had, Passed
There’s Only, One Last Blink of an Eye Left in This Room Now
not my photo…
The Horses that, Devoured up the Autumns, the Cicadas of the Springtime
The Butterflies without Form, Finding the Nectars of the Questions Asked,
Along with the Things that Were Ordinary, Belonging, to the Afternoons
One of These Days, It Will Come
One of These Days, It Will Become, Willing
The Endless and Limited, Everything I Should Be Hating
Seemed to be All, in Relations to You
So, there’s that hint of a love gone wrong, or a love that’d ended, way too soon, and you feel that scent of regret from the poet, of loss of someone dear, and hating the individual for leaving too.
Life, the Obstacle Course 