If I had three lives I would surely die for you,
But until then I'll wait.
Admittedly, waiting is not my usual game
But my torch has long gone out
And the orbs of the night do not flatter me.
My unchartered embryo
Has held me close
For quite some time now,
And though any form of procreation
Says much for our ability to close the door of temptation,
We must fight the universal,
For dementia of the cells will not choose selectively,
But it will surely choose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem