Distant Star

By Martin Stein

little beloved, the poet says
dear great soul, I say

plant of your distant island
fruit of pain and fragility
immortal flower in my memory

my heart is bleeding
by your thorns
by the fragments of your mirror

pounding heart
loving heart
until I turn into dust

little beloved, the poet says
dear great soul, I say

I have lost you
I have kept the longing

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