We patent patiently
like painters
paint the sea
but we are weak
meagre and bleak
protect our skins
with some sins
against daylight
we fear death
like an aftermath
tearing our cloth
as if we were moth
burning in a flame
fleeing from shame
Aha being torn
it's like being born
what's all in a name! M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem