Shall we go to the river? To see the pellucid
and hear the sound of water gurgling,
as at the hamlet where I was teasing
you for the first time, where the sky
and the birds are reluctant
to go home late afternoon into place,
we are reluctant
to say the word “love” without the escort poem.
Alas, the river has dried and blackened.
Shall we go to the top of the mountain? To wait for the sunrise
and feel the cold clouds, as the moment when I whispered sentences
in love with you for the first time,
where the earth and the sea are reluctant
to reveal him to the front of our closed eyes,
where the air was as thin as your hair-braided yarn.
Alas, the mountain had become flat and the road to their jobs.
Shall we say the word “sorry” it here just now? To the universe
and our past that is so beautiful and amusing,
I want to apologize to you for having made you happy
in the past; I hope that our universe still loves us.