I promised my eyes
that i will love them all
like the way i cared
for the longings of
my tongue
i have given them all but bags
of burdens
sore to the mirror of my
morning
tryst to myself and to myself
what revenge shall they
give me?
ah, this blindness to what is
near to my touch
to what is pleasing
but so distant
what i touch is rough and ugly
far from what
i imagine things to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem