Hide me, hide me still
in clothing darkness,
amongst the thousands
dressed in light.
To stand out would be
irony.
Line me up. There is
only one of me, but
line me up still. Line up
the thousands of me that
make only one; what the
heck. You have a thousand
voices that speak to me
in melodies.
Bury me, bury me
deep, deep underground.
Deeper still. Till
my soul is lost
in a thousand cities.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem