before that
i had fever, i was
chilling,
and then you come
with a good news
which you brought yourself
inside my room,
and i said, you give me
a nice chill, and you
sit beside me, and
touch my nape and rub
the oil, and i feel so light
that i still think that
love is still
existent.
the way i talk is prophetic
someone deep within us wants
to die,
always looking for suffocation,
but the mornings are
assurances, and mirrors are
good advisers,
and a good voice keeps singing,
life goes on, my dear,
and it is beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem