May be?
My five senses were dead!
Shadow is seeking the graveyard.
And soul gazing me and crying,
Neither I was sad
Nor tears I shed.
I saw scattered…
Five senses in bed,
I feel please I am dead.
Inside a fragile mirror,
Image reflect like a meteor,
Why?
May be?
My five senses were dead!
Red Chinese goods still I buy.
Insides my rooms, I bedeck,
From morrow to eve, I need.
Five senses desire still not dead.
I realized and cried
Why five senses was not decayed?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem