In a world where
life is a period
and death is eternal
i may not cry.
This is if, i get the
late fortune by dying last.
I have not a heart left to feel;
but veins filled with contemplated blood.
I live in logic of scarce emotions.
Invite me not in funerals
lest i disappoint to see a point of pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem