tell me, ask,
kneel down, and beg
that everything that i am
telling you is not true
that these are all the fabrications
of a fertile mind
all imaginations
of a man who is tired of having to do nothing in his life
crazy, mad, name me
psychologically imbalanced,
beg, you must beg,
that death cannot be true
let that man who stand in the middle of the busy road shout
that we too
are false.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem