I hear fear,
Pain,
And loneliness,
And it all comes from your voice,
It trembles,
As if it fears this might be its last day.
Soon all the fear,
All the pain,
And all the loneliness disappear,
And I begin to hear hostility,
Frustration,
And anger,
And it is so much clearer than all the fear,
All the pain,
And all the loneliness.
Why is it so clear?
And why do I have to be burdened by the gift,
The gift to hear?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem