Let me unfeel, and I will be buildings in the rain,
Not throw my warm heart against concrete walls.
I will be barbed wire and fences,
And not cut myself to climb.
I will be cement and paving stones,
And I will not look up.
I will walk in faceless ranks,
And I will not break step.
I will drape myself on crossed splints,
And move as the wind moves.
I will build myself from silent snow,
And no longer feel the cold.
I will fill my old self with rivers of hot scorn
‘Til he melts into the sea
And there, in the curve of each wave
He will sleep with open eyes,
While mine, down-turned
Will never meet their gaze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem