Passing the slaughter house
The barber stops for a while
And he feels his previous birth
That he's a cow!
Now I cut the hair
From a child to an adult
Never do a sin
And the mirror knows
But no way to express her emotions?
When I use the razor for shaving
I'll be very patient
Specially on butcher's throat
As still I feel that enormous pain
And what he did in my previous birth?
(For Dorothy A.Holmes apwlts2 in gratitude!)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem