How much can you kill me with a lie?
Hurt, wounded-of course, yet I've aeons to die.
The reminiscence of those smiling days and silent nights
Still vibrating and trespassing through those veins,
Appeal to the reasons and simply just fly
With the ashes of a smoldering cigarette
Left to burn with such an ease? Strange!
I've failed to defame, or to cry, for that hope
Once you've brought to me.
Probably you are mistaken my dear_ love, friendship, belief
May have been butchered in you, but not obviously
On the awakening conscience, always attired and jovial in me.
Again I sing and shout blatantly-
How much can you kill me with a lie?
Hurt, wounded-of course, yet I've aeons to die…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem