The people who believe they’ve been chosen
are banking on a sense of great security
that’s based on bonds with God that have been frozen,
providing them with interest on maturity.
There is another face to love, not based
on being chosen but on being almost half
the other––and accepting, poker-faced,
a valence not dependent on a polygraph.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem