the sleep is sleepless
in this hot-sea-shore
that’s my only guardian
in the form of clouds
for separating myself from the palms of my hands
that is my act of ferrying boat eaten by ants
Not for a golden deer my darling for a golden iguana
I am now totally dedicated to my pocket-comb
today’s income is very little
yet may you note
with the match-stick
i can rightly be able to reach that rehearsal-room
if you have taken decision
to make the rain-water your capital
then I have to display more simplicity on my face
the fight would never be finished
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem