i must have said it before
and here you are telling me that
someone said it,
sort of pretending that it wasn't me
the church that you destroyed
and built again
i missed the old facade
where God must have been there waiting
you changed the lights
paved the way and made it too smooth for me
what i see is a cheap structure
to my utter dismay
but you are too good to be tackled
too kind to be toppled down
and so i healed the rift with a laughter
that you can never hear
there is still the guilt that lives at the bottom of things
but soon i will dislodge it
it does not deserve my dwelling
which is always waiting for something else for something new
the old clothes are burned
old needles shall use new threads to sew another pattern again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem