'Le phychiatre noir',
Judging from my skin to accept the bones;
But, being a mother matters to me.
I am living in hell but, with the muse of truth!
Rambling here and there to merge out with the facts;
Like Jack and Jane who went out to play.
Life!
With the sea of love presented to you before marriage;
And, travelling faster enough to reach to your destination.
Life!
Someone is flying a balloon above me;
Over the muse of nature across the sea of love.
'Le phychiatre noir'!
Like life in the sea of condoms;
But, make no mistake along the line.
The bones!
Judging from my skin to accept them;
Like the muse of Jack and Jane at the playground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem