What are those penetrating eyes
Telling me and wanted to set fire into my heart?
After everything burnt to ashes.
After all birds set off from here
From the pond so dried up
and vanished.
I am made hard as a rock
Not to feast my eyes on the things of beauties
With flowers boomed,
Not to pain with heat of the poaching sun
Or feel the showering of the rain.
What are those penetrating eyes
Telling me and wanted to set fire into my heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem