My deep sub-concious is rather capricious
with cruel tempting tortures awaiting the unwary.
It strains the leash to avoid the drip of poison
but the issues that bind defy corrosion.
It's forgotton all but my oldest name
and what I did before I sat looking at her bowl.
Will old histories teach me what i am to do
or when I am free shall I make myself anew?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem