I was born 
with a propensity
to confess.  
I always felt 
that a curse, 
until one day, 
I spilled blood 
all over the grotto
and some clever sojourner 
put it in a chalice, 
gave a toast 
to second chances, 
then sewed my heart 
with golden thread 
and it started beating again.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    