Raising spade swinging hard esence time
to us there is no second chance.
Avalanche of pain no tears of great I bear
all share.
Inside freezing mind is leaving singing of
the choir.
Next to you upon my face smelling scent
sweet clean is water pure.
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'...sweet clean is water pure' has an almost perfect rhythm to it. Interesting and original phrasing. Nice work.