the hands of fog
hole his head like a hill
the coldness is
felt on the
sides of his ear
you are the cloud king now
feeling so high
you let
the drops of rain fall
and so there
were tears
dropping from his eyes
cloud king, wearing the cloak of
fog,
you leave another
valley of
molested emptiness
barren desert feeling
another wasted moment
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem