HER tears drip under a tented
RED sky.
HER words fill in the pain,
like a drawing, paint by numbers.
SHE is young, she is old, shes
a child,
shes a nun that gave the world
love, and beatiful flowers...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
THERE ARE TIMES WHEN I FIND MYSELF IN TOTAL SADNESS, THEN ITS OVER....