how i can i ever stop
when this act has become my life?
how can i ever tell you
about sleepless nights?
my painful eyes, my bleeding heart
how can i ever tell you
about these parts of me?
let me smile and laugh with you
my poetry shall tell another tale
and whichever is true,
ask the wind and it shall tell you
as my chair, ask my window
and they shall tell you
ask my eyeglasses and see
what i am seeing, try to taste
the salt on the floor,
they may be the residue
of my tears
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem