Darkness craving hungry blue darkness
A Sharp brad-awl errant
Let it be drilled
Let it be drilled
Waiting to be appertained
After millions of years
Your elegy would be carved on my body made of sand-stone
A saga be sung by the queen breeze
God smiling sitting on the cupola of the last earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem