it is getting dark
and then they all make ready
themselves
for this kind of play
it is best when the moon fades
it is better done when the rain
fall heavily on their
bare bodies....
no one sees what one does not want to see
no one hears what everyone does not want to hear
the joys of the many
the sickness of the soul
all become witness to the
patience of humanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem