Not anything
but a hot streak
of tragedies
whipping us
down the swivelling
road
Like a sheep to
an abattoir,
that does nothing
upon recalling
that this dance
mirrors
the one its eyes
have touched
before
Because desire
is a bottomless belly
and no one
can ever fill it
whole
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a nice poem, Kampanje. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.