25 years must still be
hurting, a wound that could have healed
but she insists on its pain,
i want to forget
but she must have planted
a bamboo on that
brook of brine,
not too salty, but
mostly a bitter
blindness about that love
that never
fulfilled itself,
this morning i have something
to say
but she closed the door
and she
is crying still, despite
those 25 years.
how can i free
myself from this
cell of
guilt?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like how you compare guilt to a cell ;)