While silly memories of you and me
are leaping through the early morning,
the misty day is already forgetting
the way her own night was like.
Images of a frog disappear quickly
before I can distinguish its green shape
and I can not grasp it with my hands,
nor with my mind, if I should choose to do so.
But I don’t really want to catch one
and feel the slimy weakness of its skin.
Let memories sink into the horizon today
and let frogs stay far away from my face.