Who would empty the hole punch after it punched in
Though many displaced lives?
Life as a file
Under two iron holes
Always requires a certain degree of steadiness.
Be it holding grave mistakes
Or be it littered with ugly truth
Once it acquires two punched holes
It is rehabilitated into a neat file.
That, it's to conclude
That no one dear to touch that hole punch
On the desk of judge BFS.
(2019.10.30)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem