Everything is liquid, we see only reflections.
The sea of ourselves - denizen of our skin,
caught in the shadows of our symmetry
cast by a fading sun.
Silhouettes within shadows,
scions of the sky.
It is only when we turn to the open sea
that we can create ourselves
like artisans, naked and alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem