Looking through a broken window,
The sun shining gloomily,
Theming the dark ash forest.
Pain felt from under the soles of my feet.
The twinkle of the river,
As the wind rubs against it for comfort,
Distort the very vision of my life.
The morning sky thinned with a striking blue,
And yet the moon remains unbudged.
'How selfish could thee be Moon? '
Somehow it frowned toward my question.
The forces of my dark bay troded me fro.
I found myself trekking in a lavish forest of glass.
Although frail they were,
I could hardly harm even one.
I saw glares of souls emerging from the mortal ground.
They too wondered:
'How selfish could thee be Moon? '
'And thee Sun how gloom is thy strength.'
If Moon was men,
And Sun like wise.
Would the heaven glimmer of such beauty?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem