you ask me to choose
between truth
and consequence,
i rather have
all the consequences.
you are the truth
and you begin
to hurt. I face you
again, i have no more
tears
attuned am i
to these blunders
and sorrows
and pains, , , ,
to all these
redundancies
a thesaurus of
lamentations,
i open a page
of this truth,
i still hope to find
this word....
happiness,
i still have faith, that this word
is not lost, among the pages
of your stories,
some bookmarks
are thrown under the bed,
i remember reading this page.
there is this fingerprint
of my laughter,
it is still alive and
smiling at me.
I still believe, what mother
said: keep the marriage
there are always threads
and needles for whatever
is torn.
Father was lucky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem