while, it, is true,
that i empathize with
what, you are now,
are there rough
storms inside
your mind?
are you a ship
without an anchor?
or an ant crushed
by a stone?
still breathing
the last
whatever,
there is a must still
to learn
this craft of survival
through
poetry as medium
of angst,
of internal wars
unseen
by any human
ordinary eye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem