at the end
to make yourself a shield from all those
invasive matters of the
heart
you keep yourself enclosed in that
same cocoon
always that same same cocoon
hard so hard outside
this time you promise yourself
there shall be no butterfly ending
more of keeping
the silence of that cocoon
hanging upon a twig
under those
dead leaves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem