I have waking nightmaresThat it's too late,That I'm too far ,That I've murdered the poetryWhich was being born inside me.I search everywhere I goLooking for its remnants,Not knowing the point in timeOr the place where it was lost.I wonder sometimesIf a glance from your eyesOr a word from your lipsOr even a prayer From the hidden chambers of your heartMight bring it flooding back into my soul.The language which I fear is n...