there is no wound that you can see
by all means you will see no visible injury
in this place the people that you meet smile at you
and they will say
' he's doing well and taking
more fortunes and luck and prosperity'
but there is a pain that only your heart feels
that which their eyes cannot see
that which their hands cannot feel
that which their ears never hear
there is this pain
without an open wound
there is no blood dripping
but there is pain throbbing
there is no bruise
no inflammation
but there is this pus aplenty
boiling inside but
without a possible exit
there is this voice hidden
inside you
screaming
there is this threat of a
sudden eruption
at any moment
there is someone inside you praying
that now it must perish
degenerate and then
altogether die and
disappear forever
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem