TRANSLATION
Removing your essence
from one memory to the next:
your style, groomed in dreams
glimpsed through your eyes,
your voice, cutting like paper
thinner than your veil,
your taste, delicious, delirious,
deliberate from your lips,
your soul, ever imprisoned,
free now beyond your age.
I waited for my angel
but failed to feel her wings
drifting onto my pillow.
Sighing, my pen dropped.
You smiled, your body
cold and stiff in your page.
(Image: “Why did Cleopatra wear makeup?”, A Moment of Science, Indiana Public Media)
Voices under the Sun 陽光下的聲音 