I have not performed a miracle.
No, I have not step on water.
No, I have not restored the dead to life.
No, I have not cut the moon in two halves.
In the world
only I am dead drunk of your finger-tips
full of that orange smell
that you peel for me.
Isn't it miracle?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem