in the coldness of this
old and traditional bond
like a chain of steel in the
coldest day of November
we are mature enough
to disregard what repels us
we do not clash about
these corrosive walls
head-on we shall die our
heads like broken balls
our hearts giving in to the
cancer of indifference
we are in this rain and
we stay we know that like
all seasons nothing stays that
long drought or flood
there is that moment of
subsidy, that subservience
of least resistance that
patience of insistence
takes time but it will
always come, surely
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem