I am chafed by the cloudless
Sky, night playing hide and seek
With my feelings: anger, guilt,
Shame over the crown of my head.
True, this coldness shivers
As it coils beneath wounded pores
Visible with friends drinking
At four-cornered tables
Gambling 25 centavos on dusty seats.
I'd rather throw stones at passersby
And break their faces -
So shiny yet so grim with fiery
Smiles offensive and unruly
To a tired mind. Standing by
The side of the doorway, smoking
Low tar nicotine cigarettes,
Despair speaks a language
Not so much of words and expressions.
When will moonlight strike its
Agitation? When the road leaves
Visitors so cunning that cottages
Arrange themselves for a play?
Stunning, but midnight is alive.
Standing by the doorway, friends
Drinking at four-cornered tables
Gambling 25 centavos on dusty seats...
They could not see me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem