what i have
i already have and
i have never asked for
more because i always
tell myself: what for?
i am not that old
to surrender
i still have tight
skin on my forehead
my cheeks still display
the gold in sunshine
my feet are still agile
like the gazelles that
i often dream
my hands still long
for a curved body
to be traced like
a map
to my fingers still
looking for
new destinations
what i have i keep
for now
what you give
i may refuse
since i always tell
myself: what for?
it is the mind that
keeps an illusion
that this body still
roars like a lion
and loves like
a dog.
i have other dreams
though
a bird that flies
away
without having
to return back
from where it stopped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem