We pricked our hand and
feared the blood one day
The accidental of suffering
while all of the while
The stars are not stars
and the dark night canvas
is a simple black sheet
The evil in men sets
hungering and planning into
motion so early we can not
see it.
We must look for him -
even in the shadows he
creates.
They are not our shadows.
We must remember, not all
of the world’s shadows are
ours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem