Night hides all
wounds,
all sins,
her cloak of shadows
smooths out the edges
faster than water
on stone
and yet
it is illusion,
the claws
that hope becomes
rip deeply
carving canyons
in the trusting soul
unwomaned now
by doubt
tomorrow's dawn will rise
...on what?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem