one can never throw
just like that the memories of the years
they're like sea corrals on the
floor of the sea
like shells clinging to an anchor
of the ship
like a rust on the steel keel
like tattoos on the skin
anything permanent that we try to remove
gives that pain
these hairs on the armpit
these nails we try to cut from ourselves
the cut navel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem