I want to suffer to get
a taste of your unpredictability.
I flung myself on thorns.
Not virtual. It was a dream.
Do I like you in absentia? O god
how many times you weep?
We drink from the eyes.
We hugged and kissed a tiger for
a reason. It was a ritual.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem