My pain has universality.
I don't remember my name.
My poems live in the roses.
Falling short in the eyes
of the sun? I will smear the ash on my
forehead. Love will not immigrate.
Was it a revolution?
Getting there to jump in a volcano
to burn the future. Take away all my shadows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I will smear the ash on my forehead..... the sacred belief of a believer