The ghost of a little boy
asked me to play
today
I asked his name
and he said
that the angels
called him Life
He asked my name
and I told him Death
I dressed myself in black
and Life cloaked himself in white
We ran outside
past Destruction
Past hope
past a well man
and one with a slit throat
We ran to the gates of heaven
and played all day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem