The tongue that just bruised me,
left clothes under a crying cloud.
They preach, ‘love your neighbour as yourself,
Save me from getting drenched.’
It is not the law but a voice that lives in me,
That roped me to the consciousness of righteousness.
But she returns again, and again;
Knocking my door with knuckles of hate,
Not of thanks for saving her body from rain
But to sacrifice me to anger
the spirit that barely thinks before it acts.
But may God forbid
May He save me from my neighbour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem