sometimes when i have nothing to say
like the silence of the closed window
or the nights on the grass
or the twinkle of the stars... i feel so full
and when i get so full, i feel like
vomiting my existence,
i am nauseous to this hiding, sometimes
i want to say it all, and then i become so empty
and when empty i float, i feel like i am nothing but air,
and then i surrender again
to the walls.... talking and talking to the walls
and i do not really care about the rumors that they have ears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem