hands wrinkle before my eyes.
i turn them over,
palms facing me.
time passes quickly,
a decade in a second,
a memory in a moment.
i curl up and cry
as i wither
and die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Elsa, you have captured how I often feel...but I am old, and you are young. Good job getting inside someone's head (or hands?) . You didn't waste any lines on trivialities and I admire that. Raynette