Hip bones slicing; razor sharp.
At this she hears her mother harp:
'No more weight are you to lose! '
And yet tighter still she draws her noose.
Never will she end this game,
For without it all it's not the same.
Ana is her place to hide,
And by her rules she will abide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem