Why you have left
your power to dream
as the shadow follows your footsteps
i remember standing in the courtyard
looking at the cleft in the wall
i painted my figure on the wall
with the black of my own ashes
i lost the count of time
and met the last dead man in the dream
he was still trying to have my garden
but like the wise i broke my dream
whence my mindless masters
have sent me
now i am looking at my feet
and realizing
this me all weepy
with some reason to live more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem