Calmness mistaken for pride,
Honesty mistaken for love.
Just a line of truth, holds unto their hearts like the shackles that hug the wrists of 18th century slaves.
Behind the jamb of the detached door of conversation I stand,
Dazzling my teeth like the sparkle we expect from the glowing skin of sky
During the cries of heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem