i am feverish.
i would have gone into serious thoughts.
but how can i?
i do not want to open like the sky.
at noon the sun,
then perhaps death.
the sky may open as it can,
but there is nothing in there.
nothing much.
the honesty is killing all of us.
liberation is dangerous.
there will be sacrifices.
and it could be
you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem