People say after it
the worst sadness comes and loneliness
as it resembles in appearance
only with the stupid punctuation marks
after it one can drink nothing
even though the mouth burns,
even though your heart is screaming,
it is the only wine
made to be
suspended
one floor above,
like a dead sea
without scrolls
lying
in a hollow bitch
of a chest.
Its voice obliterates you,
it is never a gentle one
and you are most likely
to drown
despite
no having too much drink.
It is the heaviest full bodied wine:
the wine of a friendship that dies
in front of you.
translated by Daniela Bullas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great start with a nice poem, Pope. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks
Thanks! I will :)