it was never
the cliff but the
rage of the storms
in the ocean
not the tower
perhaps you missed
the air that travels
from end to end
do not be a star
you are not meant to
be twinkling or on
top of the black skies
it is the river
the one that you cannot
hold in your hand
the worms climb the
top of the mountain of
worms
one worm above the
other
a butterfly rises
above this mess
live for a day and
become perfect when
its wings are gone....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem