I was born
with a propensity
to confess.
I always felt
that a curse,
until one day,
I spilled blood
all over the grotto
and some clever sojourner
put it in a chalice,
gave a toast
to second chances,
then sewed my heart
with golden thread
and it started beating again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem