you are years ahead
i like you to think that you are much better
in terms of compassion
knowledge had always been
younger than compassion
yet compassion is as meek
as it is not assertive
i like to think that you are much better
but you have not lived that much
you are never water to fire
never a tree to a bird
you have taken side with the ax
and the flint
there is so much blood around
the rocks are bathing
confusion flows to the sea
the rivers are willing victims
you put gasoline on chaos
and you dance around that big fire
i like to think that you are older and much better
than myself
but your hands have grown nails and splinters of glass
and like a hand grenade
you finally exploded and killed so many and
died
i like to think that i should have done better
you have nailed my feet on the floor and splinters wound my soles
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem