Fourteen you are now.
Pale beauty.
I dreamt that
he came. A prince.
Stood before me.
Strong eyes.
He asked me:
Who are you?
Don’t know, really.
Sorry.
I guess
I am nobody.
A wood with a ghost behind every tree.
Then you looked into his eyes.
I blinded both of mine.
Then you took his hands.
I cut off both of mine.
Then you kissed his lips.
Then you whispered in his ear.
The words he longed to hear.
What they were I knew so well.
You welcomed him into your heart.
I damned mine to hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem