Pariah. Are you ready to take
revenge? You send credible hits.
Doing Violence to roses. Don't
remove the thorns. The moon bleeds.
Bare-foot I walk towards the
god, without the temple. You bring bricks,
O my angel your wings look
dirty. The stings will stop you eating dust.
You will not fly now. Sky was
turning red. Sun was shaking head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem