He who shies but flies high in the sky at night
Shall lie when he tells the mood of the moon at noon
He is ashamed to ask but makes like a shaman who knows where the moon sleeps all day long till night
He cries at dawn; when the sun rises as the moon had died in a night battle
He shuts 'Hooray' at dust; when the sun sets and predict the rise of the moon to fools
He jacks off his trophy at the jetty as everyone jeers at him when he looks at his jewel in the sky from the sea
He is a fool, try not to be one
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem