My crimson vessel of life
Kneels plaintively on
The altar of sacrifice,
Quietly pulsating.
When deception is deceived,
Truth hesitantly permeates.
-
I feel.
-
You prepared my altar
Unknowingly, of course,
Decorated with love was
Your labor- lost.
When delusion is deluded,
Perception is the only truth.
-
My arteries, prone and pulsing,
Are deftly severed.
-
And I…
I feel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem