poetry is not
as complicated
as
removing your
dress
and then going
to the
rest room
and brushing your
teeth,
it is not even
that moment when you
look at yourself in
the mirror
and seeing a new
wart at the lower
part of your
lip,
poetry is more of
putting your head
on the pillow
and then you gaze
the blank face of
the ceiling
wondering if
stars still hang
in there.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem