he finished reading a poem
by frost
sips his coffee
and looks to the sea
from his window
inside a room
with a locked door
alone
in order to forget
he begins to caress himself
he begins to do
what he does
with his own
flesh
his imagination
must save him
from the wrath
of his
failure, his guilt
his sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem