Simmering below the surface
Seeking for an outlet to spout
Keep patching up the cracks
Nothing is good or bad about it
Nothing justifies an outburst
Pile up cubes of ice
To take the heat out
Offer it a cold cola
A butterscotch ice-cream
A lime and lemony drink
And when the simmering stops
And the core solidifies
Dig a hole to let it flow
As a river of gentle lava
Fertile for greens to grow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem