Guilt is like
a Salmon: It sprouts
at a place of
pure, follows
the streams of time
and travels
and settles
in lands: unrelated
and far; absorbing
along its way
every grain
that life spurts;
and accruing
knowledge,
while growing
in weight;
and once matured
in morals
struggles
to get back to
the place where born
to die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem