Again. The search
will start
for the virgin truth.
Unseen. The invisible
character, unfolds
a bipolar paradox.
So far. I have come
groping in dark
for a terpsichare.
Spineless. You
fly in the wordless
blues of the veins.
The underbelly
was smooth, tied with a
criminal moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem