You can feel it
it's not your psyche, not your soul,
it's not familiar at all.
Pray for every spell to break
all of this you couldn't take.
Die like Pharaoh in the sea
and when you do, I shall speak:
what you've done was never least.
As Musa turned his staff to a snake—
wait a little—we'll cut the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem