Reading A Poem In Translation Is Like

History Is The Gradual Instant

Once I Was Lost In A Forest. I Was So Afraid. My Blood Pounded In My Chest And I Knew My Heart's Strength Would Soon Be Exhausted. I Saved Myself Without Thinking. I Grasped The Two Syllables Closest To Me, And Replaced My Heartbeat With Your Name.

Even As A Child, Even As My Blood-past Was Drained From Me, I Understood That If I Were Strong Enough To Accept It, I Was Being Offered A Second History.

History And Memory Share Events; That Is, They Share Time And Space. Every Moment Is Two Moments.

The Truth Doesn't Care What We Think Of It.