WITH a polished blade,
and a creeping feeling
he becomes grotesque.
TO many peaple in his head,
to many dots on the ground,
to many of the pink and blues,
now its time to come back down.
WITH the hope of love,
and the promise of another
day,, he becomes human.
TO many peaple in his head,
to many dots on the ground,
to many pinks and blues, now
its time to come back down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem