The face
Is asleep
So close to me with my blood
with me from my birth
I put a musk on it
Now the face in the mirror is unknown to me
Who I am standing in front
Who I am in presence of me
I don't know
Form when I mend myself
I run and run
With no rest
No rout
No direction
Don't know why
In the silence and darkness
In the dessert and in the forest
In the crowded hall
I feel myself as a puppet
Who I am
Who I am with this civilize musk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Self reflection is always poerful because we must first see ourselves as we are before we can see ourselves as we can be. Well done my friend.