I’m part of his flesh you know it’s hard to admit, I know
They say that it started with a man’s ribcage just went and plucked it
And sometimes I like to wonder if maybe it was I who plundered the recesses of his body
And my poor mother too, from her he did bear the fruit and in my unknowing injustice I was the one to consume it
So this is why children are damned from the sin of a woman and the disease of a man
So lovingly done yet hated from the wound of man she’s created and from their flesh I’m made
And some will chose to debate it but for me it’s results will be belated for I’m guilty I know it for it was from his likeness I was created
And in his likeness I know that my temper can soar and from that I can tell that I sin for it was from his flesh that I fell
I know him by many things from father to dad to pop-pop; it’s all so keen and from him I do bear his animosities for it was from his flesh and my mother’s too that I became me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem