I just wait
The habit of years
The poem forms itself
The words come
Poetry is the natural language of my being
Even when it does not mean anything-
I cannot help it
Words and poems come
While in my heart bitter as fear and death
Are only prayers for a loved one in danger.
God Oh God God God God
Why can't we just live in peace
And our enemies no longer be enemies
But peace-loving people like us?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem