They came out unforgiven, even by me.
I hurried to catch them, before they
struck your beautiful face.
Fate marched you far away, deeply so.
In your heart the words followed, ever hot.
If you but knew this needle, now carried,
is to thread each word together, so none
ever escape, as those banishing thoughts
gone away, to repeat this history of my past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem