somehow i begin
to suspect
blood
we come from the
same mother
it is a fact which
we cannot deny
i do not drink wine
with you
and when we go for dinner
we take the shallow part
of the conversation
we are all dishonest
not telling what we are
really up to
no one is burying any
hatchet
no one is mending fences
got no sealant for the
broken porcelain bowl
i keep on hiding my
fortunes away from you
and there you are keeping
the saying that
a person in need is someone
to avoid
when you got sick
it never came into my mind
that i have to visit you
and bring something that
pleases you
there was a time when
you said i am a coward
but i disregarded it
saying well it is not true
i am just being courteous
to you
ultimately we never ask anymore
why we have not really become
the brothers that we are.
we know what is wrong and
we keep it that way...avoiding
a confrontation
buying peace, and waiting for
the gift of silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem