Angel on hindsight
Foul on an area of light. A vanishing monk.
A living stalk. A living hen.
Drumroll - please.
Hence we fly, I dry.
What do we say, quiet please.
I fly like an eagle. I walk like the empty spirit.
Ecstatic Bombastic Flying.
Bravo my friend, you are welcome to heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem