When you read my poem,
I want to grab the back of your eye.
Penetrate your soul.
Gargle, toss, thrash, taste, devour and kill.
Choose if you wish what you want to keep.
Then for sure don't forget to spit.
I want to be born, fresh, anew, like the bud,
In the spring of your young fresh thought,
As bosoms burst, from latent mirth,
And live the original you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem