Who am I?
I search my name on your face.
You won't recognize a lost coin.
The cadavers move
and talk. For what we lived
to understand our land.
The rose garden has
young Areca Palms to play
with roses in sun.
A search for our identity on others faces leaves us heartbroken. Sensitive thought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who am I? I search my name on your face. You won't recognize a lost coin...........expressive expression on the finder existence; wanderer through long pavement