The sky lies flat on the ground,
invisible and solid.

You are dressed in the colour of your hair,
in your eyes, your steps and your words.
You're here and elsewhere. I give chase to you

and shudder. You are too tall perhaps,
or too near. Your inapproachability
is unforgivable. If I could be a bird -

but the precision escapes me
as does the trust. I look at you

and shudder. Talk to me, as I'll keep quiet,
suffer my stranglehold, suffer
the awkwardness, suffer me, love.
Translation: 2006, Willem Groenewegen