no fence
or electric wires;
just vast space
stretching for
four thousand miles,
no sword or knife
pokes at the air
but a cut somewhere
brandishes
fresh blow of blood
to the head
heart, and palm,
discreet sobs
and overflown tears
echo through these
telephone wires
that seek to
self-destruct,
I am helpless;
the distance stabs
at these fragile
trying wrists
but hang on
even if you
falter and crumble,
we are not fate
destiny or
anything breakable;
this is beyond a tale
and much more
than just poetry
coming to life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem