Being cut off from you
and the truth
by other thoughts
going through my mind
I write some poems,
watch solitary birds
fly past and some
coming to the window
pecking alone on it
and caged into my study
living as if I am dead
in a kind of purgatory
still thoughts with sin
and you in it
instead of prayers
keep rushing through my head
and sometimes I wonder
what I miss more
your personality or your body
or probably both.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem