she doesn't know me --
my first love, whom I know
and follow up the street,
among indifferent pedestrians.
I collect the years
rusty javelins -- one by one,
and set them aside, faces, as well,
whose names I call
along dark, deserted hallways --
confessions made daily
in a body that's bloating fast.
There, among indifferent pedestrians --
my first love,
who cares, if time flies?
One step backwards -- it's my last love.
Henrik Edoyan
translated by Tatul Sonentz
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