By Thomas Page
This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.
The air has a distinct quality between me and you
Which foretells a universe that we can only see
Made up of all our fractions that muddle into a oneness
Of me and you
That, while close, are a universe apart
That only the light between eyes can bridge longings
Lost like diffused starlight made into meaningful constellation by those unable to grasp it,
Wishing upon a falling star.