Poem
You know…
why do I laugh a lot when we meet?
Because I had wept too much before that
You know…
why did I jump here and there in the conversation and on the road?
Because my feathers are plucked
Why do I appear strong and resilient in pain?
Because my skin is tanned by suffering
O, my lady, I am not the absolute hero…
but rather the sole survivor by chance.
