the state of the body
is wavering
to the rocks of the wind
and there is this shaking
that mistakes us
for what we really are
there is the pillar
that you cannot touch and see
but you can feel it
could be the heart
or the soul
could be the whisper of
the truth
it is there
and there is nothing
that we can do
to deny it
of its existence
only and only if
we do not make profanity
of the words
those that we do not really
mean
and those that we constantly
keep on
not doing
what a pity
for one to go on flaunting
what should not
have been
in the hands and the palms
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem