We don’t appreciate our shared soles
The kings within us pushing each other away
We sink from the sun
We make shade of the living
A King is born in the dirt
Nourished by the warmth of the sun
He grows as mountains do
Slow and strong
The King brings from the gulping darkness
All kings before him
They tremble as children; that all kings are
And with the help of the indifferent light
They begin to grow, as mountains do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we make shade of the living, good writing, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.