deep in my center
lies the
word.
it resonates
softly, it
whispers
in my ear.
its lover,
silence,
embraces
the word
like thick mist
caressing
golden
coastal slopes.
but this crude song is
a metaphor,
an anxious gong,
a poor imitation,
a mockingbird.
patiently,
the word
resists
all explanation
it just simply
is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem