that goes on and on
and on and on
and even if you offer all these
to relieve yourself
they still keep on going on and on and on
as though you are a fool
not having learned a lesson at all
there is this pain
that justifies you own way of becoming one
hardheaded poet
i stays with you and you begin to like it
because there is something
poetic in its bleeding
an elegy
for its death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem