Reading A Poem In Translation Is Like

I See That I Must Give What I Most Need.

Trees For Example, Carry The Memory Of Rainfal. In Their Rings We Read Ancient Weather - Storms, Sunlight And Temperatures, The Growing Seasons Of Centuries. A Forest Shares A History Which Each Tree Remembers Even After It Has Been Felled.

But Sometimes The World Disrobes, Slips Its Dress Off A Shoulder, Stops Time For A Beat. If We Look Up At That Moment, It's Not Due To Any Ability Of Ours To Pierce The Darkness, It's The World's Brief Bestowal. The Catastrophe Of Grace.

When You Are Alone - At Sea, In The Polar Dark - An Absence Can Keep You Alive. The One You Love Maintains Your Mind. But When She's Merely Across The City, This Is An Absence That Eats You To The Bone.

Once I Was Lost In A Forest. I Was So Afraid. My Blood Pounded In My Chest And I Knew My Heart's Strength Would Soon Be Exhausted. I Saved Myself Without Thinking. I Grasped The Two Syllables Closest To Me, And Replaced My Heartbeat With Your Name.