Rocks
Heavy rock.
It is not moving,
pretending it is mad.
With lifeless passion,
It lies there all gray, egoistic and alone.
Overtaken by jealousy,
surrounding its every inch.
Heavy rock,
Strong but mysterious.
When the dusk falls,
Its face it reveals,
Becoming pale.
Heavy rock,
Lying there, mystic and resentful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem