pain sometimes
behaves like a tourist
with all its caprices
moves from one
place to another
today the body
tomorrow the heart
the next day to you
and on the last day
to me, at last, i, have
learned how to shoo
it away, i am raising
my tolerance for it,
and then it does not
come, it fears expensive
charges, with costs
chargeable to none.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem