Look at the picture my hands have drawn on my walls:
why do you stare? Look carefully, you fool!
Nerves that stretch from the navel and the eyes
thirst and burn in the brain;
copper dreams blossoming on the dead volcano
blaze and flow around;
tears unfrozen, ears unstopped,
the veins keep glowing; is it creation or destruction?
‘Look at the picture my hands have drawn on my walls;
why do you stare? Look carefully, you fool!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem