White Walls Poem by RIC BASTASA
White Walls
painting the wall white is what is done this morning.
removing the stains and the marks of wrongs
some spits and phlegm sticking
and we wonder if this shall please him
he who had died a long, long time ago
who wished all the walls are white and neat
and clean.
who wished that it will be like his body
or his soul, but then there was not enough time.
he never wished to die
that early and so dirty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 1:31:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
