I have scars on my feet that look like stigmata
Two round marks, purple and perfectly round
People think it's hilerious, my stigmata wounds that is...
I only told one or two of them, that they are actually carpet burns
That I acquired, whilst in London
after that no one thinks it's hilerious
they just nod and smile...
the great mystery of the ten thuosand things creating a human existence what more wonderful miracle than to record them in poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great piece, like a confession which shatters the illusion of piety. You said a volume in a few words.