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from the December 2007 issue

Inscription on a Tomb

And I felt your pure and sad soul
As you'd feel the moon float in silence
    Behind drawn curtains.
And I felt your poor and bashful soul,
Like a beggar, hand stretched at the gate,
    Not daring to knock and to enter,
And I felt your tender and humble soul
Like a tear that doesn't venture across the threshold of the lids,
And I felt your soul, cringed and damped by pain
Like a handkerchief in a hand tears are dripping into,
While today, when my soul wants to get lost in the night,
Only the memory of you is holding it
    With the unseen fingers of a spectre.

Read more from the December 2007 issue
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