my hands on my head
not to feel what hair is all about
remembering the
hairy feeling and the aftermath of desire
it is over
my hands on my head
for surrender
i do not kiss and tell
my hands on my chest
like holding some treasures
of gold and silver
that is what we are now
i have these seeds of silence
i sow them
and slowly and so patiently i am having this sole opportunity
watching them all grow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem