here is still the voice
of the child
still alive beyond
the boundaries of
midnight
i want to close it
switch it off like
an unwanted light
like an unnecessary
fire
it is still haunting
though well fed
it is not hungry
it is not thirsty
but it is still the voice
of the crying child
beneath the sought
silence and the peace
here is the voice of
the child
it is still chanting the
harshness of truths
how many nights
how many days
it has not tired crying
it does not die
this voice of the small child
for centuries
never stopped, never quenched
never dead....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem