Locked in a prison of your own desire
On a heavy wall full of broken nails
You scratch for mercy with a need so dire
It leaves you blind to every sign and trail
That many before you had left for you
Between the bars and in open spaces;
You look for words, but every effort to
Confine the search to only well-known places
Will only leave more entries for the need
That makes a cripple of a mind once free
Until you know that only you can feed
The ripple growing, wanting just to be
The writing is not only on the wall
But in every silence and in every call
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem