I have often preferred a skant lamplight
to the austerity of fluorescence:
Like being questioned for a crime
you have always wanted to commit.
But, safe, in the glowing aura
of sepia tones, honed
through an amber lampshade,
is the subtle, oblique plea of I might...
Rather than the snowblind sterility
of forceps and demerol,
bullies in white labcoats
yanking from a limp body,
You, conceived in love.
But pulled from this world, crying.
My son. in both, Birth and Death,
stay away from the white light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem