My thoughts of you
always involve something trivial,
such as a moment with the sun setting
somewhere behind where you sit
and the wind blowing,
but by that triviality,
long transmitted from some moment
A Happy letter

when you wandered in infinite misery,
I will summon you.
The reason why I really truly love you is
because there was a point
when I transformed my love
by that infinitely prolonged expectancy.
As night fell,
it began to snow heavily in our valley.
I am convinced that my love too is
certain to end at some point.
But that is merely a matter of thinking
about my expectancy's posture.
I am convinced that in the meantime
snow will stop,
flowers will bloom,
autumn leaves will fall,
snow will again fall heavily.