They say your wounds are still that green,
Substantial change, our eyes have not discerned.
Our eyes observe what action yours has been;
You should have cured them if you were concerned!
Your every claim is nothing but make-believe,
Because a face reveals what hides a tongue!
Respiring traumatic sighs do not relieve
A person who has been severely stung!
Why do they not believe the wounds are healed?
Why to preserve corrosive wounds entwined?
To me, when their futility was revealed!
What they perceive is nothing but scars behind.
The skin restores; the wounds do vanish away,
The scars diminish, for life, however they stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem