with lines from Desnos, Mayakovsky, and Rilke
Words,
could they be only myths
like the myrtle
of the dead?
Yes,
I know the power of words,
less than nothing,
less than trampled petals
in a dance hall,
and yet
if I were to call
who among men would hear me
without words?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem