I Owe Thee
I owe
But not the bank
Indebted not to Shylock
Were it the bank
They would constrict my breathing hole
Were it Shylock
He would demand the blow
Even when I vouched the pouch
I owe the world
You bore me
You are the core
Of all that is
I owe
And I'm to pay
Not with bales
But with the widest of bays
The sun shines
The moon stills
Because Women
Hold the Balance
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem