I weave my words like secret threasds,
In tangled verse where meaning hides,
Each line a word, softly said,
That drift through crevasse, narrow or wide.
I speak in symbols, cryptic, bold,
A language few now seem to know,
For in my silence, truth is heardβ
A code that guards my mystery.
The masses walk where such words cause pain,
But in the night, I speak through dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem