Calmly recollecting truths of existence, threading them tightly in doilies of lace in hopes of tomorrow.
Scattered within lay traces of tears, hoping to exist
for more than a minute.
Lying uncomfortably in beds of woe, life dangles before
us giving us unpromised hopes.
Gathering fallen blossoms and images we forsake
ourselves at someone else's insistence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem