What is this grief that lingers
after the time of mourning is past?
What is this joy that fades
before it is truly realised?
What is this pain that radiates not
from a surface wound nor has an outward sign?
What is this love that consumes
the soul and demands the ultimate sacrifice?
They are one and the same.
Hosts to our servitude who make us who we are
or break us under their yoke.
Will there ever come a time when we are slaves
no longer?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem