Taking sorrow by the hand, allowing it to show the way
through it's long drawn-out process in time.
Quickly taking to it's precedent, wanting it to hold,
guiding into another sphere where it can be written
about.
Left dangling without any qualms until the next episode
opens up my heart and pours salt into the rawness
of it's open, wounded, unhealed scar time and again.
Separating and forming possibilities of another phase
in cooperating entirely within parameters of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem