what if i took my rusted axe,
and chopped up the cross
of my self-denial,
would you come and stand by the fire?
what if i opened my eyes
and you could see through them,
as if my heart were a window,
would you shake for just a moment?
what if i laid down this body,
and took up wings of flight...
would you hear and know the sound of the sky
moaning against my freedom.
and what if i stood on your porch,
with my painter's brush and my broom,
would you recognize the scratching
of this old stray cat....
and open the door to your secret room?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really love the second stanza, a fantastic poem.