Come to the middle, middle of a wintry-night, and
Give me a warm-hug, a hug, but not mine
A bone-shivering hug of fog-sheet, into the open wilderness.
Come in due time in the early morning of November;
I shall show you all the colorfulness of life, the motionlessness
Of the trees, being silent, I shall show you the mid-winter obscurity.
Obscurity! Yes obscurity is my everlasting companion!
Do not think about me, I've mixed myself with the abstract,
with the displacement period in the silhouette of waiting trees -
All of my appearances are exposed to the openness,
Openness to the flock of woodpeckers.
Hug! Absolutely forgot! Days gone by - when I fell,
When I fell from the freshness of earth,
When I fell from the proximity of you,
I was broken, not- spontaneous.
All of you are enjoying the freshness of love, but I'm
Downtrodden and disheartened, lonely!
Ah, what an isolation! A great relief!
A relief for ever.
Dear, I am still waiting for your warm presence-
I am still waiting for your lively-touch
Come, if you have time once in a blue moon.
I was in the time of the snowy days, in the sunny days
Now my untimely-retirement! Make me forget
I can feel tired.
Don't worry about me;
I'm waiting just like before,
Unsteady and non-stop though without happiness
Still waiting for infinity - second-minute-hour less.
The poet is an essayist, book reviewer & banker