Sentiment is more fragile than glass
softer than a tender grass
it loves to see itself in many shreds
it loves to feel mown with sharp blades
it bleeds
it cries the pillow-hushed cries
it bites off many threads-bound ties
it kills
its container
in its bloody bliss
with a hiss and a cold kiss
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem and beautiful thoughts