soon the walls are no longer working,
the stairs are not worth the climb,
the skin no longer holds this flesh,
at first, you are naked and beautiful,
then you become those ugly bones,
and then you are gone
the place is without any mist
there is no air, and then
what irony is this, we are both complete
and happier, in this newly found
emptiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem