the human drama
of reenactments unfolds
again
the plasticity of
human society
as all the bigwigs
of Christianity
shall wear their sad
faces for the
death of
Christ,
some will scream
some will make some
points of our
sinful nature
some will narrate
the life and
redemption of God
who has taken the
pains of man,
the crowd is maddening
not a needle can insert
itself and make its
presence felt,
i am angry
at all these
where solitude is
choked
where suffering is
made a show
where contemplative
thinking is
chopped
i calm myself
into a reflection
that honestly
i could be one of
them...
after all,
i am still human...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem