The ghost of this face; once white/er.
Which is it washed off to the multitudes;
Gets wetter, it is lighter and blacker and
getting some what better.
and once it was not,
remembered, not forgotten
black a rose made from wood
opens a big petal of hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
black a rose made from wood open a big petal of hope. ......................................... Good so.....10............