In that dark gloom,
Light lays swooned.
The sweat of your dance,
Produces trance.
My vagabond steps to share,
The Dark ling Thrush in the sky bare.
In many ways,
With your assumed fays,
From first sense to sliding days,
I have danced in roles untold,
I have myself repeatedly sold,
But still, I am in boggy fogs,
Still in my sky float the hawks!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem