it takes a little impingement
to ruin the whole of my life
you push a nerve and disconnect it
from the rest of my system
a hand does not complain but there is the pain somehow
the arm is weakened and stiffled
the whole body wonders what is this conflict all about
there is this sickness of the mind
there is this crippling of the soul
the pain generates more pain and then at the end
you wonder
what is happening and where is the culprit
no one is there
and you lift nothing to tell the finger that it is over
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem