the fact is you love plums
you have always loved plums
and father did not like it
mother too dislikes it
plum is too unlikely for you
she hates this idea of you
loving plums
but just like the rest of
the mothers
she remains silent about
this outrage
she respects plums though
she vomits
the rest of your life has
been about plums
and the community has
extricated you from them
plums is so much
for tolerance and so you
left, you carried this plum
which makes you live,
this plum dreaming, this
plum surviving, and you wonder
why do they not like you liking
plums?
what is it that makes you
hate them? you hated them too
for not loving plums
and everything seems to be
all about plums
and you never like this
happening, until you died,
and plum is not even real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem