You thought I was a goddess
descending into this world
to release you from chains.
You said I gave you life
like a miraculous butterfly,
you begged for me to stay.
You believed I was an angel
who could fix you for good,
you wanted to keep me.
You knew all along
that this was meant to be,
I was for you, you were for me.
But all you praise is my mask;
I’m no grace,
but the symphony of your melancholy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem