...and you are all these women
who reserved parts of my heart,
like I was hiding a hotel in my chest;
..and when they left,
things were lost, maybe intentionally:
smiles, scents, colors;
that feared and grasped the paper
with the intention of
a kind response;
but out of them, I remember
not them, but you,
your birth and your first smile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem