Some poems are true monuments,
some lower to the ground
Some verse is loaded, stacked, and piled,
some stored away till found
A phrasing here, a meaning there,
now where to put it all
As voices cry within the womb,
—unborn, but still they call
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March,2017)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem