Forced into action, I built a private ark.
I hid in it all the time of my prime.
And understanding those, who hate me:
usurpers of my creativeness,
drunks, writers of God's grace
- I show a symbol of compassion
- an erect middle finger of my poetic hand.
I do not care about the conspiracy of silence, I break the whisper
and in the essence of the word I carry it all to the world:
love, truth, hope.....
And these distracted, serious or trivial verses,
which look upon you with their hidden sadness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem