Who steals life?
It is offered as gift
road to death called life
Who cares this road to end?
A Super light ignites
a ball that slowly molds
into tiny fingers
a small form
with a line drawn
calculating the seasons
the fingers will shine
the growth mild
the love wild
the terrible groan
the soft hug
all but in line
that was sketched
by the Benign
If fear shoots
at core and blinds
dark surfaces
chill terrorizes
Make a bundle
of all the troubles
throw it upward
with a prayer
Grief not long
That Super light
shall take care
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem