it is late for me to know
that you have a ghostly opinion
about
who we are
we have nerves
that explode
and you finally do not
like it
at first you love what we say
you read
our wonders
you are amazed with
the scenes we draw
upon thoughts
then there was something about
having to die
having to sail and be lost forever
in a strange horizon
having to suffer
for the good of all
and you do not like exactly
the possible consequences
of our choices
you tell us
why do we have to suffer?
despite the fruits
why do we have to be injured?
despite the luxuries
and the lushness of
our brains
we do not know
our genes are secretive
we only feel
that what is sacred to us
can be
also so wrong
we end in sadness
we admire the last beauty
that we take
with us.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem