I hunch over it
more
to conceal it
than to hide it.
What is mine
is mine.
And from the apple
it is made.
I to taste it
the wine
or from the leaf
and grape.
I am made from instead
one or the other
not from both
do they know
by now
do you even know
from which
I came refined.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem