The bed

 

 

The Bed

 

As my head is leaning on it

and then my body is laid,

The hurted heart is asking a question

God!

why…?

Why in the world…?

 

As the ears contacting with it

is burying the internal voice more deeply in it,

they are attracted into the time of the rest.

 

The cotton-like plain

is covering up my eyes, and my ears,

and finally it is covering up my pains.

 

And it is interring my sound and my tears,

In the end it is interring the powerless flesh,

Just like God

who is going away without saying,

just as lending his breast to me furtively.