she hanged
four paintings on the wall,
all squares
in three colors
i stop for a while
to take a look
i palpitated and
i like it
such is the work of
art,
it makes us stop for
a while
the world stops spinning,
life stands still
the paintings become
the stars,
all suns in their own
right
claiming the same
moving universe
and then back to your
world again,
for another damnation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem