that's choice of the which voice
is to hear?
and which one to follow
wonder i,
every now and then.
there is these voices,
coming from all directions
unto us.
like a morning sun,
like a crave for the dark
me, us and inside.
me,
is just a distraction,
a fraud.
me, something like,
was the master of the sword
u never knew
all these spectacles
that eight legged beast
and its flowering senses.
punishing myself
was just a running off
like kindlin within a fire
the belly, the heart, the mind
and the hands on its sides.
me, u, who we are?
time was the lecturer,
world was the chalkboard.
like the shades,
we are parading on,
a mysterious parable,
told in front of the sun
and so on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem