You walk far away,
far away from me.
And I look at your sweet path
from afar.
It is more beautiful
to watch you walk
than to have you near.
Happiness, Bird,
is watching you fly
from my chest
into the wind.
I am much more content
with your joy
than my passion.
You walk quietly
and I smile.
Your silence speaks
loudly.
It says you honor
this journey
the Good Lord has you on
and so
I do as well.
Bearded man,
I tell you
with a flood in my eyes
I don't want you to go.
But still no sound comes
out of this instrument.
Why would I interrupt your concert?
Bearded man,
go and live.
There are no mountains high enough
for you
if one day
you decide
to play my untouched
voice
that says I love you.
Go.
I have waited long enough,
what are 3 more years?
For you
or the brave fellow
who will stop his walk
at the sight
of my flooded eyes
And the hesitation
of a muted song
that says
I love you.
Walk far away.
It is far more beautiful
to watch you walk
and far less painful
to keep my voice
within this poem,
my silent concert.
