reading you tonight
naked to the half-moon
i suffer, i am honestly
suffering, with you,
you are my pain, and
i am your stone sculpture
i am no Michelangelo
at the last stage of
this romance, i may turn
into a stone, hope me not,
to become your medusa, or
a headless swordsman,
as i continue to suffer
without the prospect
of dying, like your
gladiator not finally
winning the rights of
a free man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem