The path disappears
under the foot.
Gently I lay down the book
and start reading the blank page.
Stainless thoughts.I strip to root.
A stunning revelation
about a tinned dialogue.
Blue hydrangeas
were telling something.
It was time to become insane
on the street.
The lust,
the sex
creeps into the sect. Religion was a proxy
to kill, to achieve a stop.
going nowhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I do not know what you actually mean by blue hydrangeas? I have this plant many years now and it is not blooming at all! No double meaning!