here comes
the drought morning
again.
i was sleeping
in the soft glimmer
of moon,
dreaming about
my new dreams.
oh sun!
everyday
you do knock
in my courtyard,
on the occasion
of my best
adorned moment.
are you so
self-conceit
that
by shining
so early everyday
you jest
on fiesta
of my dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem