this house
where you live
has no door
the window is
as thin as
a Chinese eye
and it
does not open
despite
the heat inside
the bedroom
how can you
blame them
if they mistake you
for a coffin?
and so they mourn
for you
and just like any
repeated ritual
it ends and
then they
forget you
i know that
it is your last dream
before
the night goes as
black
as the ocean
on the trench
totally dark and
still undefiled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem