we leaped over pilows, we fought with those
we stomped those over with our feets
and my braded wet hair
was smelling like sun and jasmine
I thought the time has stopped
stuck months, weeks and days
the sun has gone down many more times
over my scattered lying on the floor clothes
now it has taken the shape of my lips
and just keeps silent
while dying, butterflies
are struggling less than men
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'while dying, butterflies are struggling less than men' - Pray, what did you mean by these two lines?