If a crowd flushes in
to commit eternal ‘sin'
and burn their precious skin
into another dimension
if a crowd rushes in
and tears away from tension
standing on bridges
hanging on cliffs
to watch the
sunrise edges
and then by
surmise
jump into
that surprise
a one second flight
with all their might
what might have been
who could have foreseen
a fragile sight for freedom
who could have prevented
that phoenix' last feather from falling
those shriek shrill sounds, enthralling. M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem