Child, go home.
Your home is nowhere?
Then go back to the womb.
No mother's womb?
Go to father's semen.
Your father is nowhere?
Go to mum's tubes.
Is the egg there barren?
Then, little one, flow away
in her menstrual blood
just as her longing
goes down the drain -
go that way too.
Let the girl be.
Child, go home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A captivating poem about ripping the umbilical cord. No mercy! No mincing of words! Well done!