A gypsum salt mine fills Mary's eyes
diamond tears milk a tear duct
what has dissolved has seen
another lonely, upchucked
heart; back on earth - conceit
here no real value grows
in fertilising of a seed
where thorns;
are more cherished than-a-rose
Mary just cries clutching a crown
a crown of thorns
as Roman the soldiers mock the world
three times
who shall pay for their crimes
when gypsum salt mines
fills all our minds
all our eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem