these vertebrae tell a story
literary elements leave their mark
but not enough to be unraveled
the gravel murmurs a little secret
but even the breeze can’t tell
whether it was a scoff of diversion
or an intricate unearthing of hue
there’s an applause for unsureness
knock down every rigid pillar
as these battered palms surrender
to the powerful poison and rage
of the violin that spills this tale
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem