A little of everything,
In the details of me,
Translation of thoughts,
This whirlwind of arrows,
Targeting my steps.
I follow under the stumbles,
These sneaky brows,
In his soul showers,
Washing the thrown stones,
For those hungry friends,
Who admire me in their hunting,
And if they camuflam cunningly,
In their hidden monsters,
In their glass mansions.
A little of everything,
In the embargoes of relations,
In their chaotic specters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
These sneaky brows, In his soul showers, Washing the thrown stones, For those hungry friends, intentions, attitudes make us and influence our decisions.... thank you dear poet. very nice poem. tony