These limbs I have
These arms I call mine
holding myself in my pain and agony
These tan arms stretch outward
looking for something more
than the excuse of scars
Nothing is on them but freckles
from a warm sun, a fanciful thought
of it has been cast down.
Having held a beautiful girl
promising safety on a hopeless breath
to breathe in fresh air is a scarce thing.
Living in a cold place
with a pallid face
and limpid lies
I feel the sting of regret
and hear the song of hate
praising my name
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I've read your poem but couldn't understand what you wanted to convey by these lines: 'Having held a beautiful girl promising safety on a hopeless breath to breathe in fresh air is a scarce thing.' And.. 'I feel the sting of regret and hear the song of hate praising my name' Why do you hear the song of hate praise your name? I would appreciate if you could kindly throw some light.