the same...
same hands that caressed me
are the same hands slapping my face
molesting me
signaling me to hell
like am a time bomb in a shell
the same...
same lip that passionately kissed me
And called me the flower of the flock
have turned me into a laughing stock
Are talking ill of me
the same...
same span of my hips
and the curl of my edible lips
after which you ran like a native dog
are the same you run away from
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem