When I wake up in the morning I think to myself.
Who am I?
Getasew I say.
I look in the mirror confused as if I have never seen myself before.
Who are you I say.
The person that I thought was Getasew didn't respond.
Even he didn't know who he was.
Why should a person think that?
How dose a person come up with the idea of “the loss of identity.”
Identity is not your name.
But the how you come out of the pains and uncertainties that life throws at you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem