I dreamed that I’m on a boat of history
I dreamed that history is in his lost love
Just as tiny golden box is hanging on summer’s wind
I dreamed that a man called back bone came
And took all shades of history
Which we all sitting under it
During time of war and without peace
I dreamed a withered farm of present
It leads me to the mirror
And shows me direction of future days
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem