Is a pillow a disciplinary form of some metaphor?
Any way I'm the one who's quite dead now
so please shut up.
I have two to hide my head under?
Mumbling in her nasty girl some come calling sleep.
It was not long, after that, it became even longer.
Rolling over the moon and I found the arrow.
It rattled yet but still I found it broke.
And I hummed a song, from first to end,
I found it for the second time in the center of the friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
travelling inward... well written poem!