when you feel that you are pushed to the edge
and there is no more possible space for patience
what kind of language would you like me to speak?
what mode of courtesy do you expect?
blame me not for the foul language, the curse and damnation
that i bombard you every minute of your day
forgive me but i am just giving you what i think you deserve.
you violence begets my violence, you ill wind begets my storms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem