Colourful are the asterisks I must display,
Find them now in their tasks that matter,
Crucifix after crucifix, layers upon heavenly layers,
Wonder of the highlighted segments, of heavens.
Colours cascade to banter us with exchanges
Of the bittermost sensations.
Inside the playful an ingress has also been,
Beans and herbs if the herbs.
There is the arrival of the sun and moon of the heights
Thrashing us, part of the sky dies with crimson.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem