you cannot paint the face
of pain
such an excruciating pain
you can feel from a distance
you cannot pull that knife
stuck in his heart
you are in pain yourself and
even by just pulling it
you may die yourself even
if the knife is still not
thrust inside your heart, inside
your soul, inside even in your
emptiness. You cannot put this
pain in words. Never.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem