Unexpectedly under the sand.
Deeper the well the water is hotter.
Sorrow drawn from joy, holy water.
Astonished opened eyes of the toy.
Made of wood except for the plastic.
You cheat and the joy of your face being painted,
is in and of itself is itself your joy of color becoming.
Sweetheart like the person from such heat it burns,
friction screams, never silent eternal bones.
Simply because of the damages done to Men.
The weakness of his mistake.
And dumber than any woman makes him love,
therefore it is swampy hot the marsh.
Whom gave such power to her filled with thick fear.
He does not understand.
He was not designed to understand therefor.
His face grimacing.
She thinks of any aspect of his murder.
He is hers the joy.
Depending on the length of her sickness.
She unbeknownst to him does not feel only the ecstasy.
Hereupon and therein greatly is her grimace, still rejoices.
I am only here because you squeezed the life out of him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem