They may try to sensor my poetry,
may classify it as unwanted literature,
not true to political correctness,
it may be seen as a threat to the country,
they may throw it away as rubbish
in the nearest bin
but I will write about beauty, love
help people dream
and nothing will stop me
to write about atrocities,
about suppression, about bombs
exploding in the street,
about war and even jails
and as long as the precipice is there
I will be writing about it as well,
as life does not have only
beautiful, peaceful
and religious things to tell
but sometimes its own particular kind of hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem