As if there is a bit of sand there,
Hidden in your bony hand
You mend after a break up with a friend
And I don't see it... Or that's what I pretend
And time is falling on our eyes
Like sand on our skin
I wouldn't be so keen to help with the surprise
I'm savouring the spleen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem