tinkering
it is something that you like
to know what really is there
inside the complications of things
folding
how can you spend so much time
folding clothes
that you never used
and keeping them
again in that closet
that you seldom open
like a party that you tender only once in a year
and scattering
what is it this time that you want to do?
what is it that must take you back
something to do
a reason to live after another tinkering
that have caused you
sorrow
fold them back and keep them
they are useless
and there is a need for you to be open again
breathe some hidden perfume
inside the cabinet of old clothes
come back and tell me
what did you see there?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem