you sow your lies in the fields of innocence
the maidens there are blind
virginal in their upbringings
in those hills where the one that rises is only the sun,
and they are not deaf nonetheless and they listen so
attentively like the lonely forest
where the birds there are laying eggs,
the maidens always believe what they hear
and they know it is your voice
quivering
not faltering in every word uttered and sighs heaved,
they nod
they believe the lies sprouting in their clean minds,
they are not born to tell the difference,
and so when the sun sets before their blind eyes,
they all contributed their sympathies
buying you a nice coffin
even if you speak again they will not listen
you are dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem