When one is aloof from his own feelings,
He is also a stranger from the feelings
Of those for whom he knows he should love.
With a magnifying glass, I search for a strand of meaning
In the endless calamities for which
I continue to gravitate toward;
Why do these psychic wounds accumulate without pause?
Insensibly, I fail to visit the woman
Who could be a balm to the suffering
Of all these self-afflicted lacerations of the heart.
We all need someone to believe
The wellspring of tears within our eyes,
Maybe the dearest friend from youth,
Maybe the first companion we made
After we departed childhood.
I wish someone would introduce me
To the man I was intended to be
Instead of this odd fellow
Who shadows me from mirror to mirror
Like a merciless stalker.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem