Delusional tidings set serene.
Yet I still sense that insidious sting.
It presses in,
into the skin
Deeper than before,
Writhing cowardly once more.
And I,
I thought it couldn't rot.
Paid without lie,
It sought its need of me, as I forgot.
Yet in some deceitful silence,
Came an all familiar foe
Through dull defiance.
And trust which cowers, once bestowed
Displays its might,
In too familiar fight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem