In the misty night
I can hear your lies
Your pain and despair
Fists banging down the table
Passion pouring from your eyes
Dripping unto your shirt
Head, palms and agony
Torturing power of creation
Fingers burning the keyboard
Fists cracking
Capers crunching
Documents gathered
Pens exploding
Ink jetting
Paint bursting
Pencils chanting
Printers printing
Testimonies circulated
In the misty night
I can hear your lies
Though I cannot feel any pain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem