Gray ash spills
Down a damp ravine into
Water surrounded by numb
Green witnesses.
White powder sprinkled
Over tipped salutes
Keeps the survivors back.
The clouds blush rose
As they hold the rising
Sun-wife from her chill-
Stilled husband -
Blurred as a naughty wind
Shuffles the clues.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem