mistook myself for a person with stripes
cautiously walking across the zebra crossing
colour blind to the signs of blinking trafick lights
frozen by false alarms of things called as important as
life and death cursed by deep thoughts of mine
and shallow slips of tongue aiming at not one
of my friends irretrievably lost in my mind
where have I hidden the signs of the first disease
which brought to all these all of these
false recognitions
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem