Skies were red before moon
Sitting there with raindrops
They said that a fast noon
Like harvesting raw crops
Birds were sighing good-bye
As the headlights turn on night
Might this be only lie
Or something was nary right
Felt lost out of the words
When nothing touched the thought
There cracked the old records
Useless as nothing sought
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem