The sign of the cross a million times
and God apologizes for the mind inside my brain.
It says the hourglass fills in the Devil's skull.
And i am like lovers that lead you into quicksand untouched.
They whipped the mule of your soul crazily with sledehammers,
and on someone's grief we huddle outside a man's mouth;
Waiting to be healed like the soft piano solo of your soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem