Loneliness. The bee
bites. An instinct was to meet
now the sting of love.
If I survive, will you
pay the price of keeping death at bay?
Where has the pain of Venus gone?
Beyond the fable
lie the tears of a broken rock
getting ready to meet the clay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful expression. As always