Like a large, black,
stag beetle, you give a sermon
on living. You don’t believe
in death.
Ready to jump from the
cliff, how did you reach there?
Slipping through the
cracks of a marathon!
Amid fear and anxiety
hitting the raw line of finish
with tranced frenzy.
After glass and long kisses,
did you eat the prickly pears ?
On the way to salvation, you
were giving very―
uncharitable commentary
at the terminus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem