i, too, honestly
cannot imagine that
hat as an elephant
inside a
constrictor
i admit i must not
have felt everything inside
me in the heart
everyday to live
this kind of life i have
to see a hat as
a hat
it is the brain
that works to get us
our daily bread
when i followed the
heart
i go bleeding most
of the time
one in a million
we go berserk
over so much drama
and yet
arrive at nothing but
our perdition
let me touch my
heart at night
when i am about to
sleep
and to sleep well
i guess i must place
it under my bed
beside my socks and
shoes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem