no one likes this kind of theme
for no one likes winter
and autumn
and night
and dusk
and even the paleness
of skin
the kind of feeling that
you show to
a child covering his
bald head
the men and women
on pain relievers
and chemotheraphy
and radiation
they are the worst
of death's images
or the shock that goes
with it
like a flood of blood
on cemented streets
after a bomb
explosion
of the plane that crushed
where some body
parts are scattered
on trees and
grasses distant
from each other
how can you ever
dislike them?
deny them
but how can
you ever deny
them when they
are true
when soon
they will also
come and say
here is death
Now it is your
turn.
take your time
do not rush
yourself
do you really
have to cry
on a gloomy day?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem