inside us is this
beautiful turpulent
dream
corpulent but not
that turbulent
as you misinterpreted,
we want to let it out
to show
or even to let it go
but it stays there
like this shy truth
silent and corpuscular
in one way you want to
help put it into words
to let them know
that this beautiful
turpulence really exists
with or without the beloved
this love of self
and solitude,
yet, accept
this fact
words fall short of their
maximum use,
perhaps it is just meant
to be felt
to be kept to be savored
and never
to be shared....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem