A bruise on my heart,
only he can give solace;
slipping away swiftly,
'cause nothing is flawless.
Cold and aloof look,
sharp yet clawless;
walls beneath me,
and his mind aweless.
Every phase recurrent,
as if it were a chorus;
ambivalent choices,
as final moment left us.
The heaven to call us,
and hell to draw us;
discrete piece of soul,
yet nothing can befall us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem