I inspect every soul as if it was my own
Whether dead, living or to be born.
This has always been natural,
It's only what could've been.
I long for the day I have children.
If I get up, ask me who I am.
Respond in the only way you can.
And as venus churns out gold, we'll forget
What it ever meant to have worth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem