i am nothing but the moth,
drawn to the flame.
no more than a body,
borrowed by god!
no more than the tear,
that no one else saw.
no less than the hunger,
that you feel.
i am nothing but the cross,
and the hurt Judas felt.
the day Buddha died,
and the day you were born!
the broken down shelter,
made of branches and leaves.
the mother holding the sick child,
through the unending night.
the rose that bloomed,
out of season unnoticed.
the last prayer of the prisoner,
walking to his execution.
i am nothing more than you,
and often less...
i am the stone that bruised your foot,
the thorn in your conscience.
i am the shadow you sleep with,
when you're left alone.
i am the hand that takes yours,
when you are afraid.
i am nothing...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was deeper than it looks, great rhythm too.