A boulder on my neck.
I am climbing your
house, O god.
I don’t believe you.
I trust the man,
a committed trespasser.
A crestfallen humanity
walking endlessly in―
the valley of tears,
to find the clean water,
the bread and roof. The
anguish breaks the morals.
And our painted deities,
resting on their thrones to
see the vultures descending.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant capture, I hope humanity answers those unheavenly deities in steadfast determination.loved the image of vultures, made the scene all the more gruesome.