they are cutting themselves, as zipper,
like this man, when he see me
he is starting from - good day,
and then, of already, cutting only...
small stammering, for as far as me sorrow,
when I am looking at remains
after the morning toilet, and shaving off,
paste still in corners.
and this smelling water, kind of
well-known about - brute, supposedly.
after all other. so interesting,
as visible rose-colour
of cheekbones. painted
with my look through...
... I will set in new... or buttons...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good poem. Interesting and subtle. I like it,