bewildered about what's going on
outside your world
beyond those veils and curtains
you beg that i confess
what you see in me is what you really are,
and this you ask that
i must confess all my sins
so i can be saved
from what? my silence is asking.
as a friend there are matters to be reconsidered
saving my soul is never any other person's business
i even have to find a location for it when it wants to rest
my silence is a rock in the middle of the river's rage.
there is a black bird there that sings under the whiteness of the clouds
drinking every raindrop
that we do not expect to fall in the middle of a bright day
i need not confess
there are so many poems written and scattered everywhere
that i made
they have mouths and in the corners of the lonely nights
they all sing my own madness
both on sadness and joys,
they have said everything that you badly want to hear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well done amigo.........