Don't give me aches,
by becoming tall.
I will not change my style.
Not scared. There
was a pause, between
the screams.
There you were
playing with the other truth,
which was not mine.
I was not alone,
buried in your hums.
Pain was my goddess!
The lamb was dead
taking off her coat. I wear
the skin of dandelions
to walk on wet land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Forgiving is a good quality. We should forgive all. This poem is excellently penned.