There was one day I had a knife,
I'll slice my wrists and flow.
I'm bleeding more each time I slice,
This blood will surely go.
With a deep slice here, and another one there, too much blood,
I can't stop, I will surely drop dead.
I don't want to end my life,
But only now I know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem