TO PERCH AND TO FLY
your words flew up with the bird wings,
then perched at the end of the sunset,
waited for the night passing, by the sprigs of the fragrant flowers
to fly was as light as to perch,
to fly meant to love in the sound of missing,
to love meant to perch in the wild desire,
only God knew where the words perched,
and although they flew up or perched down,
I didn't say I loved you so that you couldn't say you loved me very soon,
to perch cheerfully in the sac-na happiness on the silent way, with poems on this wing,
music notes on that wing,
meant to flap lightly but to stir the nothingness
there were thirty years of romance in you,
who drank the last drop of love wine of mine,
who didn't blame me for having a face after rains.
behind you, the postponement had just drowned then it was carried away hastily,
tears from the poem wing were the rain which made my heart wet,
sunlights from the music wing were your eyes which shone into the bottom of my heart
to perch meant to begin flying,
and you flew to somewhere you could perch.
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