Hands tied in white ribbon
Pressed together, as in prayer
And perhaps it is
A cross hangs from those hands as well
Eyes are shut, face is calm
Though the fire burns
And a whip strikes down
Same hands, ribbon red
Pressed together, as in begging
And it could be
The red ribbon is actually blood
Eyes wide with fear, face is pouring with glistening red
Though not many look, those who do just laugh
And ropes tie the already raw wrists
Still those hands, but the ribbon is blue
No longer pressed together, held out, as in giving
Maybe they are
But maybe not, nothing rests in those hands
Eyes are gentle, face is smiling
The world seems perfectly silent
And pain seems to have disappeared
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem