the hormone
signals you to go
and make
you leave and choose
what stirs
you like
a rippling
water
on a pond
once the ripple
finishes itself
into
a crystal clear
surface
you mirror
yourself in there
and find
for the meantime
the narcissus
in your
face but sooner
as mud settles
on the floor
you shall see
the beauty
in you
Prometheus!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem