ORPHAN

I feel as an orphan
abandoned by my mind
who died of starvation
when none could embrace,
after they having heard,
after they having smiled
but who then all vanished.

I would like to believe
that my sorrow glimmers
with reflections of silver and pearl,
so that I could admire the beauty
of an overcast landscape
in which at least I am part.

but no poet
and no painter
stroked or etched my figure
on the canvas of oblivion.
So remains no memory of loss -
so remains no memory -
so remains no notion of memory.