Poem To Be Read And Sung

I know there is a

Who looks for me day and night inside her hand,and coming upon me, every minute, in her shoes.

Doesn't she know that the night is buriedwith spurs behind the kitchen?

I know there is someone composed of my pieces,whom I complete when my waist goesgalloping in her precise little stone.

Doesn't she know that money once out for her likenessnever returns to her trunk?

I know the day,but the sun has escaped from me;

I know the universal act she performed in her bedwith some other woman's  bravery and  warm water,whose shallow recurrence is a mine.

Is it possible this being is so smalleven her own feet walk on her that way?

A cat is the border between us two,right there beside her bowl of water.

I see her on the corners, her dress - oncean inquiring  palm tree - opens and closes...

What can she do but change her style weeping?

But she does look and look for me.

This is a real story!       translated by Robert Bly