in my youth i saw flying plates
broken glass lamps, wasted rice grains,
invectives and curses were always
the sounds of the house,
i promise not to copy and paste
those things, sad,
disappointing, unfortunate human
conflagrations of the innocence
of some souls,
now i am free.
i listen to nobody but only the voices within me
they are peaceful, every tapestry embroidered with logic
and reason,
searching for more wisdom
listening more than talking
i am staying and i like it this way now
the shells of the past were burned
the ashes thrown at the feet of Dipolog river.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem