Before I leave
I will give you my gift
to perceive the human anguish.
Time had passed like a snake
noiselessly, skipping the years
I grieved.
The solace of harvesting the dreams
was thin.
A terrible shadow of a futile
creation.
Hopes always lied
hollowed by anesthesia of truth.
A surrogate womb trims
the love.
My garden was always green.
Howling was generating the heat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
These spectacles of round glass allow vision into minds that once were clouded with the surreality of homosexual acts. The glass was sand. The sand became a radiance of yellow orange and red. The radiance became a law, and that was cracked.