there is doubt
is this work worth the effort?
he has no time
you see, to read the details
put it there
let it rot there
some molds start to grow
on every heading of poetry
or if it were wine
something keeps on fermenting
you wait for more time
something in there keeps bubbling
you hear the sound
of this beautiful disturbance
there is the hissing sound of the snake
and be careful
it poses and so alive
it is now ready to bite
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem