I can’t hold your name in my throat anymore.
I can’t hold you inside me any longer. What does the flower do with its scent
Where do the fields go with their crops, and the peacock with its tail, and the lamp with its oil?
Where do I go with you? Where do I hide you?
And the people see in the signs of my hands, in the tone of my voice, in the rhythm of my steps,
From the smell of my clothes people know that you’re my lover, from the smell of my skin, people know that I was with you, from the numbness of my arm, people know that you were sleeping on it.
I won’t be able to hide you anymore.
Because from the elegance of my handwriting, people know that I’m writing to you
And from the happiness of steps, people know that I’m going to a date with you.
And from the thickness of the grass on my lips, people know that I’ve kissed you.
We can’t, we can’t, we can’t keep on wearing costumes anymore,
Because the paths we walked on can’t be quite,
And the wet birds that stood on our shoulders will tell the other birds,
And how would you like me to erase our news from the birds’ memories?
How can I convince the birds to not spread its memories?"