the thrill of the rope is just the beginning
of my regrets
superficial grace,
there are other simple ways which cannot just be replaced
because they are the permanences
of loving memories
sometimes we need to wear the masks
just to be plain happy
at least for the moment
when reality sinks and hurts and becomes so heavy
and unbearable
this boocrap, please hear and listen
do you listen still?
now what? steady, steady, keep moving
the hands that still manage to write
keep the thrill of hope and set aside the rope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem