Far from the warm holes
a mess of doors and
wings, wrecks of dents
and the broken lights
of lost souls,
the bent hope
of a young man`s last skid
that led to flowers
cold as a country roadside
and the whisper
between the aluminium
begging till the battery leaks;
I did not want
To lose my body
But I was no good at life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant and profound. I am thankful for life...but you show that for some, living is a struggle.