if by some slight sorcery (or so they
call the workings of love) would you
tell me in increments of silences
and dispel the agony
that washes nightly over every dream
and every day I have yet to live
if there is room for me
for a thee and me
I have loved
and nothing else matters
my beloved, there is salvation here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem