You are sharp like
Akhmatova. But she sits in the
corner of a dark home and is weeping.
Albert Camus was wise
to send the Sisiphus from underground
to lift the heavy rock to mountain and fall.
The wall of Sartre
still helps you for self - deception
gives a taste of horror.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem