for those we cannot touch
with our bare hands
we stain inside our dreams
sleep is a ship taking us
to the ports of our wishes
we do not have to tell the
captain or the crew
the winds are too willing
the waves are acting like
slaves
we embrace tightly what we
sorely miss on those indifferent
days on those cruel days
until what comes out instead
is the blood of our desires
we promise again not to....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem