Wind fills a piece or two of clothing that is not my own,
I’ve had the breath blown out of me.
All around, people reach out to touch me,
Asking each other,
What miracle is this?
Somehow all form has slipped from me
As if I’m just soul and the crowd so near
There is hardly any separation between us,
Each one holds the grief inside, won’t let it out.
Translated by J. Latourelle