Clipping roses in memories of past thoughts,
being poked by thorns, making sure that I'm
still able to feel the intensity of living.
Extending all prosaic formulas into spaces
above earth.
Never leaving anything to circumstances,
holding onto every emotion as it tries to
jump into the ocean and be taken away in the
middle of a perfect storm.
Encasing all problems and letting them drift
away, forlornly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem