Thrown is earth;
weightless through an open palm,
petals mixed with shouts,
a door closed; the sky locked down.
You grew from inside,
walkers from a far rock.
The way is a river of courage,
dark eyed for a single-voiced lament.
You do not fear the eyeless.
Your names are soaked with honour,
the holy deluge of humanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem