So pure, unscathed skin,

So beautiful, untouched skin,

like a feather, a pure white feather

but the pure white feather is damaged,

damaged like the untouched skin.

Deep cuts adorn the skin.

Blood is searching his way like a snake.

A lot of blood which gives so much warmth.

The joy is increasing with every cut.

Drop to drop, the feather is dying

red from blood, blood that brings happiness.

No, regrets. Only satisfaction.

After a while the blood is drying.

The feather looses its beauty and its joy.

The feather will never be the same like before.

Everyone notice it, recognize the traces,

traces that everyone can interpret.

I read it somewhere and love it so much that I translated it.



Rin Yamashita   _〆(。。)

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