I find myself lost in the tide,
where lean on the sun my shoulder,
alone, empty, disoriented and wounded,
drowned in a very deep vase.
I don't know if I'm in rough waters
or in the dance of my glass,
I only know that all these are facades,
of what is, to my heart, hurting.
When someone has suffered so much,
It's normal to feel exhausted
of how hurt and anchored he has been.
And here I am on my ship sailing,
for the bitterest storms of my drink,
clouding my fragmented heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem