i hear myself
this sun is on my frequency
I hear myself
worried that the rays lose their joy
and the pleasure of being curious as a child
the combinationthat characterizes me
joy and pleasure
I hear myself
where is the spring I see it
I want to feel it
and the sun became sweet as the flowers
and the moon was waiting for the fruit
I had lost the number of buds
yet the feeling was overwhelmed
of the last attack
of hatred
which I want to forget
dark violence atack makes me horny
I boil in myself
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem